Friends and Scars
by Trumpeteer34
Summary: Scarface is taken away and replaced with Mr. Friend, a therapeutic dummy. When Arnold Wesker is busted out of Arkham by Rhino and the gang, he has some choices to make. How far will the Ventriloquist go to save his boss, Mr. Scarface?
1. Chapter 1

**Friends and Scars**

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I do not own Arnold Wesker, Scarface, or any of the other Batman characters presented. They belong to DC Comics (Batman, in particular). The other characters are from my imagination. This was written purely for fun.

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"Alright, settle down!"

The small group of Arkham inmates slowly lowered their chattering, looking to the female asylum worker in the center of their semi-circle with cold eyes.

The woman in white smiled as she took her seat across from her patients. She glanced around the small group present for therapy. To her left was a former psychologist of that very asylum, Harleen Quinzel, now known as Harley Quinn. Next to her was her best friend, the botanist Pamela Isley, known as Poison Ivy.

The psychologist blinked and glanced to her right. There sat Jervis Tetch, the Mad Hatter, technological genius with a deep love for Lewis Carroll. Beside him sat Arnold Wesker, the Ventriloquist, with his dummy Scarface, a powerful mob boss, perched on his knee.

Her eyes lingered on Mr. Wesker for a brief moment. Despite his eyes being hidden behind the thick lenses that sat on his nose, she could tell he was staring down at the ground, refusing to make eye-contact with anyone. He sat quietly, looking timid as ever. The dummy at the end of his arm sat quietly as well, his arms crossed over his wooden chest and leaning against the puppet master's body. Scarface's irritated glass eyes remained shifted to his left and focused on the ground.

"Let us begin," the Arkham worker finally said once the group had quieted down. Her eyes moved to each of the four before her. "Would anyone like to share something?"

"Ooh! Ooh!" Harley Quinn called excitedly as she threw her hand into the air like a child with the answer to a question.

Before she was able to begin, Scarface rolled his eyes and shifted his weight slightly. "Blasted waste of time…" he muttered under his breath.

Harley's eyes shot to the dummy. "What was that, Puppethead?!" she snapped.

"Yes, Arnold," the psychologist said, turning to the Ventriloquist, "is there something you'd like to share?"

Arnold Wesker looked up from the floor, his slightly confused eyes lifting to the Arkham worker. "I-I didn't say anything…" he replied quietly.

"Run that by me again, Puppethead!" Harley demanded, sitting on the edge of her seat and leaning over Ivy.

Scarface's head turned to her slowly, his glass eyes seemingly filled with irritation. "I don't belong 'ere. I ain't crazy."

"'We're all mad here,' said the Cat," the Mad Hatter said matter-of-factly with a toothy grin.

As Scarface whirled around and shot Tetch a dirty look, Poison Ivy nudged Harley back into her seat. "I think you both need to get over yourselves," she said in a smooth voice.

Scarface barked out an irrepressible laugh. "You're one ta talk, huh, Red?" he asked as his glass eyes focused on the woman next to him and Wesker. "Ya still think you're hot shit?"

"Alright, that's enough," the Arkham worker tried to cut in before either Ivy or Scarface lost their tempers.

"It's alright, Red," Scarface continued in a mocking tone, "I'll always be _hard_ for ya."

Both Poison Ivy and Arnold Wesker blushed like mad at the dummy's statement. "M-Mr. Scarface, have some decency!" Wesker managed to say, shocked his boss would even say something like that in this setting.

"How dare you, you damn pervert!" Pam yelled as she swung her open hand toward Wesker's face.

Wesker let out a small "eep" of fear and ducked away from her hand, ultimately hitting the ground. As he managed to keep the chair he had been previously sitting between himself and the infuriated redhead, Scarface let out a laugh.

"That's enough!" the asylum worker shouted over the chaos that had broken out.

Ivy froze, her hand in mid-swing and Wesker already cringing from the potential blow. She pointed an accusing finger at Wesker. "He started it!"

Wesker opened an eye to see her pointing at him. He stared up at her with nervous eyes before he looked to the asylum worker. "I…I—"

"No, _I_ started it," Scarface corrected Ivy harshly. He came face-to-face with her, dragging an unwilling Wesker behind him that left him dangling over his chair. "Get it right, Red!" Scarface continued loudly.

"That's it!" the Arkham worker said, throwing her hands up into the air. "Group is over!"

Harley pouted out her lip before shooting Scarface a murderous look. "Way to go, Puppethead."

"I do my best, _doll,"_ Scarface growled, returning her look with a glare of his own.

"I said enough," the worker repeated, stepping between the Ventriloquist and Harley. She turned to the officers by the door. "Please escort them back to their cells."

Wesker slowly rose to his feet, still feeling slightly shaken when the Arkham worker turned to him. "Take a seat, Arnold," she said to him.

After taking a quick look toward the other three villains being escorted out, Wesker sat back down. Once the room was empty save for her, Scarface, and himself, he looked to the worker. "I-I'm sorry about that…" he stammered.

"I ain't," Scarface muttered as he crossed his arms and leaned back against the Ventriloquist's body.

Before the worker could respond to either of them, Wesker's eyes lowered to the dummy on the end of his arm. "What do you mean, you're not?!"

Scarface glared up at him. "It's just as it sounds, Dummy."

Wesker pushed his glasses back up his nose. "You just like causing trouble, don't you?!"

"No shit, Sherlock. What was your first clue?" Scarface shot back.

"Gentlemen," the worker interrupted. When both of them glanced at her, she leaned forward in her chair, studying them intently. "Please. Let's just have a civilized conversation."

After a beat of silence had passed, Wesker nodded. "A-About what?" he asked slowly.

"Your relationship with each other," the Arkham employee responded.

Scarface's eyes immediately grew angry and narrowed on her. "We're _partners_; partners an' nothin' else."

The woman gazed down briefly at the puppet before her eyes returned to Wesker. "Arnold, is that true?"

The man studied the woman with somewhat confused eyes. "You know that's true…" he answered after another beat of silence.

"What's this about?" the dummy demanded to know.

She sat back in her seat, continuing to stare at the Ventriloquist. "You two seem like polar opposites," she said, more to herself. "How on Earth do you get along?"

"We don't," Scarface grumbled, shooting a quick look up at the puppet master.

"Do you agree?" she asked the man across from her.

Wesker gazed down at Scarface briefly before he looked back to the Arkham worker. He nibbled on his bottom lip nervously as his fingers began tapping against his knee. "W-Well…um…w-we may not…_agree_ on everything…but we can get along."

She brought her hands together and tapped her index fingers against her mouth. "Interesting…" she breathed.

* * *

Arnold Wesker sat silently in his cell, staring at the blank wall across the room. He twiddled his thumbs almost unconsciously. His gaze shifted down to Scarface, who was sitting beside him.

They had barely spoken since group earlier that day. Wesker could tell that Scarface was thinking about the one-on-one discussion they had with the group leader. As they were being escorted back to their cell, Scarface had mumbled something about not liking her questions.

Wesker's eyes fell to the floor, not wanting to disrupt the dummy from his thoughts. He just remained quiet and waited patiently for—

His head perked up when he heard the locks turning to their door. Almost instinctively, his hand crept into Scarface's back.

The puppet's head swiveled around and his eyes shot to the door as it opened. Two guards stepped into the room, holding handcuffs for each of them.

"What's goin' on?" Scarface demanded to know as the cuffs were secured around his wooden wrists.

They waited until Wesker's wrists were also cuffed before answering. "Dr. Myers wants to talk to you," one of them replied. "Let's go."

Wesker and Scarface exchanged brief glances as the former stood. Each guard placed a massive hand over the small man's shoulders and led him out into the hall.

The Ventriloquist kept his eyes low as they moved down the hall in silence. Scarface, on the other hand, was shooting glares from the corners of his eyes at the other inmates, who were watching them walk.

"That's it!" Scarface suddenly yelled, making Wesker snap to attention with a start. He looked to the puppet at the end of his arm with worry written all over his face.

"What is so goddamn interestin'?!" Scarface asked loudly, his eyes shifting to each of the different pairs of eyes on them.

"Shut him up, Wesker," one of the guards growled, leaning forward.

Wesker only grew more nervous at the guard's order, turning and looking meekly up at him.

Scarface shot a look to the guard who had spoken. "He don't take orders from _you_, bub!" he yelled. As the guard straightened, the puppet returned his attention to the other inmates. "What're y'all starin' at?!"

"A man and his dummy," came a cold answer from the cell of Jonathan Crane.

As a light tremble covered the Ventriloquist's body, Scarface erupted. **"**_**Dummy?!"**_ he roared furiously, his hard glass eyes locked on the Scarecrow.

Without warning, Wesker's arm shot outward. With a soft gasp, the small man's body lurched forward against his will and against the grasps of the guards. He stared at the back of Scarface's head with wide eyes behind the thick sheets of glass on his nose. "M-M-Mr. S-Scarface, calm d-down—"

"Who're you callin' dummy?!" Scarface yelled, determined to reach Crane's cell.

"Shut him the Hell _up,_ Wesker!" the same guard from before yelled this time, struggling to keep his hold on the Ventriloquist.

"Do I look _**stupid**_ to you?!" Scarface continued angrily.

Crane stared back at the dummy with dark, unexcited eyes. He kept his mouth shut, knowing it would only make the puppet angrier.

And it did. Boy, did Scarface _hate_ being ignored.

"N-Now, Mr. Scarface," Wesker began in a timid voice, "j-just calm down—"

Scarface's head whirled around to the Ventriloquist. "Shut the HELL up, Dummy! This is between me an' 'im!" He faced Crane again, looking beyond infuriated.

"Alright, that's enough!" the guard finally shouted. He reached forward and wrapped a hand around the dummy at the end of Wesker's arm.

"Get your hands offa me!" Scarface roared as he looked from Crane to the guard behind him. "Get your—"

Scarface went lifeless as Wesker's hand slipped out of his back. He was motionless in the guard's grasp, his limbs dangling.

The guard looked back down at Wesker, who stared up at Scarface with mildly longing eyes. "Keep moving," he said harshly—

"Put me down, you son of a bitch!" came a yell from Scarface.

The guard jumped and shot a murderous look to the dummy. After slapping his hand around the puppet's mouth, he shot the Ventriloquist an equally sinister look.

Wesker's gaze shifted from his beloved dummy to the guard giving him the harsh eye. He brought his handcuffed arms in toward his chest almost defensively as he shrank away from the enraged guard.

After a rough nudge, they continued down the hall. Scarface continued to growl and curse, but his words were muffled by the guard's hand. Other than that and the sound of their footsteps, all was silent.

They finally reached the door to the interrogation room. The guard holding Scarface stepped forward, hit a button on the side of the door, and spoke into the intercom. "Dr. Myers, inmate is ready."

After a few seconds of silence, there came a response. "They are _patients,_ guard, not _inmates_. Send him in."

The guard made a face and scowled at Wesker, making him only shrink away even more. The guard then pulled open the door and stood to the side. The other officer holding Wesker gently pushed the smaller man forward into the room.

"Ah, Arnold," Dr. Myers greeted his patient warmly with open arms on the other side of the room, standing at the other end of the interrogation table. "Come in, come in."

Another gentle push was needed for Wesker to slowly enter the room. "H-H-Hello, doctor," he finally managed to say, his voice hardly above a whisper.

Dr. Myers placed his hands into the pockets of his thin, white overcoat, remaining otherwise motionless. "No need to be nervous, Arnold. Please, sit down." He gave a faint nod to the guards, hoping it would go unnoticed by his patient.

Wesker did, however, notice the small movement and panicked. "Mr. Scarface?!" He whirled around—

The door slammed shut and locked, leaving him alone with his doctor.

"Sit down, Arnold."

Arnold Wesker stared at the closed door with terrified eyes, hardly hearing his doctor. A tremble had covered his body, shaking him to his very core. He felt incredibly vulnerable without the protection Scarface provided him with. There was no denying it; despite all the verbal abuse he was put through, he honestly felt safe with the dummy.

"Arnold!" Dr. Myers called for maybe the seventh time.

Wesker's eyes finally shot to his doctor. "M-Mr. Scarface…h-he _will_ be joining us, yes?" he asked somewhat frantically.

"You need to sit down," his doctor said again. "Please, sit down."

The Ventriloquist shot another look over his shoulder at the door as he inched forward. He reluctantly sat down, but kept his eyes on the entrance. He ran his thumb over his puppeteering hand, over the scars and calluses he had gained in his line of work over the years.

"How are you doing today—?"

"Will Mr. Scarface be joining us soon?!" Wesker asked again. He sounded like he was trying to hide how panicked he felt, but was failing miserably. He kept his eyes on the door, praying for the guard who took his boss to return.

"I don't think he'd like what we're going to be doing here, Arnold," Dr. Myers said as he studied his patient. He hadn't sat down, nor had he moved from where he was standing. "I'd like you to meet someone…"

Wesker said nothing and he didn't turn.

"…His name is Mr. Friend."

'_Mr. Friend…?'_ the Ventriloquist repeated in his mind, unconsciously raising an eyebrow. He turned to face his doctor and started.

Dr. Myers had taken a step to the side to reveal a well-dressed dummy sitting in the chair across from Wesker. It didn't have the aggressive air he had grown so accustomed to; it almost looked gentle…

Something that was entirely unfamiliar to him.

As Wesker continued to stare at the dummy, Dr. Myers moved around the table to where he was halfway between the two. "Now, Arnold, I'd like you to talk to Mr. Friend, here. He wants to help you." He headed toward the door. "I'll just let you two get to know each other for a little bit."

'Don't you leave me in here with him,' Wesker wanted to call to his doctor. He found himself paralyzed, however, locked in a stare-down with the dummy across from him. The door closed behind him, and he was all alone; all alone with this unfamiliar dummy.

"Hello," came a voice with a British accent. "My name is Mr. Friend."

Wesker jumped at the voice and snapped from his daze. His eyes immediately fell to the table top and he began to run an index finger along the edge of the table nervously. He swallowed the lump in his throat and remained silent.

"Aren't you going to talk to me?" Mr. Friend asked gently, not sounding the least bit offended by Wesker's silent treatment. "I want to help you get well."

Wesker blinked and looked over to the wall with the one-way window. "…Y-You make is sound like I'm ill…" he finally said in a soft, shaky voice.

"You _are_ ill, Arnold."

Wesker's eyes shot to Mr. Friend, caught off-guard by his blunt response. He simply stared at him.

"I want to help you get well, Arnold," Mr. Friend restated, regaining his gentle voice.

'The sooner I start talking to him, the sooner I can get out of here,' Wesker tried reasoning with himself. '…but Mr. Scarface will have a fit if he sees me talking with him…' He nibbled nervously on his bottom lip and tried to work up the courage to speak with this unfamiliar dummy.

He finally breathed a soft sigh and looked at the dummy.

* * *

Dr. Myers exited the interrogation room and approached a male nurse with a microphone in his hand, standing before the one-way window. He stood next to him, his arms folded behind his back.

The nurse brought the microphone up to his mouth. "Aren't you going to talk to me?" he spoke for the dummy inside the room. The small speaker inside the dummy hopefully gave the man inside the impression that Mr. Friend was indeed talking. "I want to help you get well."

As he lowered the microphone and stared into the room, he spoke to Dr. Myers. "Are you sure this is going to work?" he asked, his words accented with his British dialect.

Dr. Myers smiled softly as his patient finally spoke to the dummy. "Hopefully he'll learn to prefer Mr. Friend's company over Scarface's."

The nurse was about to reply when Mr. Friend spoke from inside the room. "You _are_ ill, Arnold." Both he and the psychologist stared into the room, equally as caught off-guard by the small sentence as Wesker was. When the dummy spoke again, gentler this time, they relaxed.

"So far, so good," Dr. Myers said. "I honestly didn't think he'd start speaking for him this quickly…"

As a conversation was started up inside the interrogation room, the nurse gazed over at the doctor. "He could actually start using his talent for something good. He really is a wonderful ventriloquist…his accent for the dummy is spot on."

Dr. Myers smiled again. "Let's hope all he really needed this whole time was a friend."


	2. Chapter 2

**Friends and Scars**

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I do not own Arnold Wesker, Scarface, or any of the other Batman characters presented. They belong to DC Comics (Batman, in particular). The other characters are from my imagination. This was written purely for fun.

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Wesker sat rigid in his cell, looking more worried than ever. He fiddled with his hands nervously as he stared at the wall across from him.

"Arnold."

Wesker let out a squeak as he jumped. His eyes shot to Mr. Friend, who was sitting in Mr. Scarface's usual spot.

"What's wrong, Arnold?" Mr. Friend asked, his British voice sounding genuinely concerned for Wesker's wellbeing.

The older man barely noticed the trembling that had suddenly overtaken his body. He just stared down at the nicely dressed dummy in a fearful silence. "…W-W-What are y-you talking about?" he finally asked, fumbling for his words.

"You know bloody well what I am talking about, Arnold," Mr. Friend answered. "You've been sitting there for the past few hours, just staring at the wall. 'Lights out' was called over an hour ago, you know…"

"It was?" Wesker took a quick look up at the light. He hadn't noticed that the lights had, indeed, been shut off. "…oh. I-I guess I didn't notice."

"You haven't answered my question," Mr. Friend said. As Wesker's eyes returned to the dummy, he continued. "Why won't you talk to me?"

The fiddling of his hands began again and he tapped a slipper-ed foot lightly against the hard linoleum floor. He wasn't sure how to respond. He slowly looked back to the wall. Despite the darkness inside the room, the little light that was shining into the room made his glasses sheen through the dark.

"Dr. Myers told you to talk to me," Mr. Friend pointed out, sitting motionless beside the Ventriloquist. "Doctor's orders."

Wesker glanced back to Mr. Friend and was about to say something before a moderately loud "BOOM" echoed down the hall. His eyes shifted to the door, a look of puzzlement replacing the worry on his face. "W-What do you suppose that was?" he asked softly.

Before Mr. Friend could respond, the overhead lights flashed on. Wesker could barely hear the groans of the blinded and half-asleep inmates over the blaring of the alarm system. He made out the sounds of pounding footsteps running down the halls; the guards and doctors, no doubt.

"What is this, a breakout?" Mr. Friend asked to no one in particular.

Wesker rose to his feet and slowly moved toward the door. "That's what it sounds like…" he answered as he looked out the small peep-hole in the door. He peeked out into the bright halls at the guards running by. "I wonder who it is this time—"

He drew a startled breath when another pair of eyes were suddenly staring back into his. He pushed himself away from the door and stumbled a few paces back into the room.

"Stand back, Mr. Ventriloquist," came a rough and familiar voice.

Wesker's eyes widened behind his glasses. Over the sound of the alarms came a ticking noise. As the man on the other side of the door took off, the Ventriloquist grabbed Mr. Friend and headed for the other side of the room.

"What's going on?!" Mr. Friend called as Wesker brought him up close to his chest, facing the wall.

"Brace yourself," Wesker said as he positioned himself to protect the dummy from the potential blast.

After a few tense seconds, a thunderous **"BOOM"** resonated throughout the room. A forceful blast hit Wesker's body, nearly knocking the breath from his body. The blast shattered the light bulbs overhead, plunging the room into darkness. He shook the lightheaded feeling from his head and gazed behind him.

The door had been blown clear off the hinges and was missing. All that was left was charred, smoking metal. The alarm system continued to blare obnoxiously.

"Good Heavens…" Mr. Friend's awe-stricken voice sounded along with the clanking of his wooden jaw.

Wesker glanced down briefly at Mr. Friend, barely noticing that his hand had crept into the dummy's back. He looked back up at the open doorway, watching the smoke dissipate.

"…You're not actually considering _escaping_, are you?!" Mr. Friend exclaimed in question.

Wesker was about to answer, but paused when he saw an enormous figure appear through the smoke. He blinked and swallowed the lump in his throat. "…yes," he finally answered.

A massive hand waved through the smoke, helping to clear the air. "Mr. Ventriloquist?" came a voice Wesker instantly recognized as Charles "Rhino" Daily, one of the loyalist brutes Mr. Scarface and Wesker had ever known. "We gotta go, now."

Wesker moved to put down Mr. Friend. "I-I have to go, Mr. Friend. It was nice meeting you, but—"

"I'm coming with you," Mr. Friend interrupted.

Wesker stared down at the unfamiliar dummy at the end of his arm. "Excuse me?"

Rhino stayed in the doorway, looking into the room. "Who's this?!"

Mr. Friend stared up at the Ventriloquist with a stubborn look in his eyes. "Dr. Myers gave me orders to stay with you. He also gave _you_ orders to talk to me, which you have _yet_ to do."

"Seriously, we gotta split!" Rhino urged from the doorway, his eyes darting from the pair inside the room to the hall.

"Doctor's orders, Arnold," Mr. Friend pointed out.

Wesker looked back and forth from Mr. Friend to Rhino, his mind racing. He finally heaved an exasperated sigh and moved to the doorway. "Come on!"

Rhino stepped out of the doorway. As Wesker and the dummy emerged from their cell, Rhino turned. "Follow me," he said as he took off down the hall. "And stay close!"

Wesker took a quick look over his shoulder down the hall where all the guards and doctors had rushed to. He finally chased after Rhino, having very little trouble keeping up with the brute.

"Your doctor is going to have a fit!" Mr. Friend called up to Wesker over the sound alarm system.

"Not now, Mr. Friend!" the Ventriloquist said loudly in response to be heard, glancing down briefly at him. He looked up to see Rhino passing the opening to a hallway—

He drew a startled breath when a nightstick appeared in front of him. His eyes widened when he saw the guard on the other end of the club, standing in the opening and waiting for the running man to run straight into his weapon.

With no time to stop and to avoid being clotheslined, Wesker ducked beneath the nightstick. His previous momentum allowed him to slide past the guard, and for the first time was grateful that Arkham issued slippers with next-to-no traction to the inmates.

With his free hand, he pushed himself back up and continued to race forward. He didn't look back at the guard in the hallway, determined to stay close to—

_**WHACK**_

Wesker let out a yelp when the nightstick smashed into the base of his skull. He lost his footing and collapsed to the ground, losing both his glasses and his grip on Mr. Friend in the process. He opened his eyes and stared at the two incredibly blurry Rhinos in the distance. He could barely hear the approaching footsteps of the guard or the alarm system overhead with the ringing that now filled his ears.

After a sharp intake of air, he tried to lift himself from the hard linoleum floor, all-the-while trying to also catch his breath.

A knee came down hard between his shoulder blades, driving him back down onto the floor. Once he realized he was pinned, Wesker's disorientation was half-replaced with panic. He tried to pull himself away from the guard, but failed.

"Hold still," the guard pinning him down growled as he pulled the plastic cover off of a syringe filled with a tranquilizer.

When the needle was plunged into his upper arm, Wesker's chest tightened with a gripping terror. "N-No," he pleaded frantically as his struggles to escape intensified. His panicked eyes shot to the hallway before him. "Rhino! Rhino!"

"Shut it, Wesker," the guard snarled as he whipped out his handcuffs. As he securely bound one of the Ventriloquist's wrists, he continued harshly. "He ain't coming back for you!"

Wesker's cries for help grew softer as the solution began to take hold. His struggling became nothing more than trembling. "…ino…" he breathed as he tried to keep his eyes open.

"You're weak," the guard chuckled as he fastened the other cuff around Wesker's wrist. "It's a wonder anyone would come and save—"

A massive fist collided with the man's chest, sending him flying off of Wesker and down the hall.

Rhino glared after the guard with a murderous look in his eyes. After a moment, he turned his attention to the man on the ground. "Mr. Ventriloquist?" he asked gently as he kneeled down.

Wesker groaned in response, his eyes fluttering half-open for a brief second before closing again.

Rhino shot another look down the hall. With a quiet curse, he snatched up his boss's glasses and shoved them into his pocket. He then carefully picked up Wesker, who hung limply in his arms. His handcuffed arms hung loosely in front of his chest.

He was about to take off when he saw the dummy by his feet. He looked at the unconscious Ventriloquist with confused eyes, and then back down to the dummy. After about a moment of frantic thinking, he made a face and grabbed the dummy.

Rhino raced down the hall and kicked open a pair of doors that led outside. They were home free.


	3. Chapter 3

**Friends and Scars**

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I do not own Arnold Wesker, Scarface, or any of the other Batman characters presented. They belong to DC Comics (Batman, in particular). The other characters are from my imagination. This was written purely for fun.

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Commissioner Jim Gordon stood on the rooftop of the Gotham City Police Department, his eyes scanning the skyline from behind thin lenses. He looked up to the bat-signal against the blanket of clouds that seemed to hover over Gotham City year-round. He ran a hand through his grey hair and heaved a sigh, his breath becoming visible in the late fall air.

He glanced over his shoulder and saw the caped figure behind him. He turned and completely faced him. "Good evening, Batman," he greeted the Dark Knight.

Batman strode out from the shadows and into the light given off from the bat-signal. He allowed his large black cape to hang down over the golden and black symbol on his chest. From beneath the dark cowl that hid much of his face, he stared out at Gordon. "Jim," he finally greeted the commissioner in a low voice accompanied by a faint nod.

Gordon shoved his hands into his pockets. "There was a break-in at Arkham earlier this evening."

Despite not showing any changes in his face, a feeling of dread came over the Caped Crusader. "Who got out this time?" he asked.

"Arnold Wesker," Gordon replied.

"The Ventriloquist…" Batman murmured.

Gordon pulled out a notebook and flipped to a certain page. "Mr. Charles 'Rhino' Daily was the one to grab Wesker. We think some of their gang members planted the explosives outside Wesker's cell before they all scattered."

"Does he have Scarface?" the caped man asked.

"No," Gordon answered, "but he did take a "therapeutic" dummy with him."

Batman turned and looked out over Gotham City, his city. "That gives us some time to find him before he becomes dangerous."

"How long do you think we have?" Gordon asked as he gazed back to the skyline.

"It usually takes Wesker around three days to rebuild the dummy," Batman said. "After that, he will be a threat again."

"I'll have my men patrol the streets and check out past hideouts," Gordon said. When no response came, he turned to find that Batman had vanished into the night.

* * *

Feeling slowly began to return to him, the first feeling being a throbbing pain in his head. He took a deep breath and brought his hands to his face, his mind barely registering the clinking of the metal links of the handcuffs that still circled his wrists. He opened his eyes and stared dully into nothing.

After another deep breath, he pushed himself up into a sitting position. He finally realized he wasn't in Arkham anymore once his eyes began to focus on his tremendously blurred surroundings. The walls he last remembered were white and padded; here they were wooden, and dull with age.

He reached over to a wooden box and retrieved his glasses. Once he had them in place, he looked around with groggy eyes. The lighting here was terrible; only faint rays of sunlight came through a tattered curtain, shutting out the world beyond it. He had no idea where he was; nothing (from what he could see in the darkness) seemed familiar to him. He gazed down at the cuffs around his wrists.

He finally stood and began to make his way to the door, stumbling to catch his footing. He collapsed against the doorframe and drew a sharp intake of air. His hands went to the back of his head where the club had hit him only hours earlier.

Wesker pushed the door open with an elbow and squinted through the sudden light of the next room: a kitchen.

"Oh, good mornin', Mr. Ventriloquist."

Wesker gazed over at Rhino, who was sitting at a wooden table and reading the newspaper. "Rhino?"

The massive man rose to his feet, folding the newspaper. He cautiously approached his boss. "How're ya feelin'?" he asked.

"Like I was hit with a club," Wesker replied slowly, his words slightly slurred. He rubbed the area on the back of his head that throbbed as he looked up at Rhino. "Was I tranquilized too?"

The henchman nodded. He noticed the handcuffs around his boss's wrists. "I think I may have somethin' to get those off."

Wesker put his arms in front of him, studying the metal links. "That would be nice…"

Rhino motioned for the Ventriloquist to head out of the room. "There should be somethin' out there."

The smaller man gazed toward the doorframe and began walking. He turned the corner and—

His eyes widened, the groggy feeling lifting completely. He jumped back behind the wall that separated the rooms, nearly knocking into the massive henchman behind him.

Rhino dodged Wesker and nearly lost his balance. He grabbed the doorframe and looked over at the Ventriloquist. "What the Hell's your problem—?!"

"What's he doing here?!" Wesker asked frantically in a hushed voice, remaining plastered against the wall.

Rhino raised an eyebrow and gazed out into the next room. On a beat up sofa was Mr. Friend, sitting lifelessly. He turned back to Wesker. "You grabbed 'im, remember?"

Wesker stared over at Rhino with wide eyes, not daring to look back into the other room. "Mr. Scarface is going to have a fit if he sees—!" He stopped short. "Where's Mr. Scarface?!"

"Arnold?" came the British voice from the next room, making Wesker jump nearly out of his skin. "Arnold, is that you?"

A few tense moments of silence filled the air. Wesker finally peeked around the doorframe at Mr. Friend. "…y-yes," he answered in a small voice.

"We need to talk, Arnold," Mr. Friend said.

Rhino stepped into the room, patting Wesker on the shoulder. "I'll let youse two talk about whatever it is youse need to while I go find that thing."

Wesker watched Rhino walk off, silently wishing Rhino would stay, before turning back to Mr. Friend. "A-About the break out?" he asked quietly.

"That was not a good idea, Arnold," Mr. Friend answered.

Wesker finally stepped into the other room and slowly approached the therapeutic dummy. He fiddled with the metal around his wrists nervously and never let his eyes fall directly on Mr. Friend. "W-Well, I couldn't just stay there…" he mumbled softly after a beat of silence.

"And why not?" Mr. Friend asked in an irritated tone.

He gazed over at the sofa for a moment before his eyes fell to the wooden floorboards. "R-Rhino and the rest of the gang had risked incarceration to bust Mr. Scarface and I out," the older man responded, his voice growing strained at the mention of his abusive boss's name. "Their efforts would have been wasted if I had stayed."

"So, what, were you just being _polite_ or something by escaping?" Mr. Friend snapped. "What about your doctors?!"

Wesker stared down at the dummy with somewhat startled eyes at the outburst. Before he was able to answer, Rhino's head popped into the room.

"Found somethin'," he said to Wesker, not even bothering to look at Mr. Friend.

The Ventriloquist's eyes shot to the enormous thug standing in the doorway. He looked back at Mr. Friend and forced a nervous little laugh. "W-Well, I would r-really love to stay and chat, but I have to go," he said in one breath, pointing after Rhino.

"We're not done here, Arnold," Mr. Friend said somewhat harshly as Wesker had tried to move out of the room. Wesker cringed at the tone of the puppet's voice.

Rhino's eyes shifted to where the unfamiliar dummy sat with a look of distaste on his face. He finally stepped into the room and grabbed the chain between Wesker's wrists. "He don't have a choice, buddy," he said to the dummy as Wesker looked up at him with surprised eyes. "I ain't gonna wait around for youse two to finish your therapy session."

Before Mr. Friend or Wesker could say anything, Rhino gently tugged on the cuffs. He led the small man from the room and away from Mr. Friend.

Once they were out of the room and far enough away from the dummy for the older man to slightly relax, he heaved a shaky sigh of relief. "T-T-Thank you, Rhino," he managed to say.

"Ain't the friendliest of characters, is 'e?" Rhino asked as he released the chain between Wesker's wrists.

As Rhino turned and walked further into the hideout, Wesker stole a quick glance over his shoulder. "I-I'm beginning to think his friendliness was all a façade…" he mumbled before scurrying after Rhino.

The brute let out a small chuckle without turning. "Who is 'e, anyway?"

They turned into a small room being dimly lit by a single light bulb overhead. That single light did very little to shine through the darkness of the room. There was a small round table in the center of the room, four chairs circling it. On the table sat a finished game of poker and a number of little metal picks.

As Rhino moved around the table, picking up one of the pieces of metal, Wesker paused in the doorway. He stole another glance down the hall to where Mr. Friend was left. "My doctor introduced me to him yesterday…" he finally answered. He moved into the room and sat down across from Rhino, his hands palm-down on the tabletop. "Dr. Myers thought Mr. Scarface wasn't very good company, so they…" his voice trailed off.

Rhino began to tinker with the keyholes on one of the cuffs, pausing to look up. "They took Mr. Scarface away?" he asked slowly.

Wesker nibbled on his bottom lip nervously and nodded, the light from the bulb overhead reflecting off his thick lenses.

Both parties were silent for a few moments, the only noise in the air being the sound of tinkering metal. The massive thug stole a quick glance up at Wesker to find him staring down at the table. He cleared his throat. "So, uh, speakin' of Mr. Scarface, I need ya to make a list of stuff you'll be needin'."

The Ventriloquist's eyes rose to Rhino, a look of complete confusion on his face. "Stuff?" he repeated in a small voice.

"Yeah," Rhino said casually as he continued to pick at the locks on the handcuffs, "y'know, to rebuild Scarface."

He missed the pure look of irrational astonishment he was given by Wesker. _"Rebuild?!"_ he repeated loudly. As Rhino gazed back up at him, he continued to stare at him. "I can't _rebuild_ him!"

Rhino didn't look back down as he turned the pick in his massive fingers. The first lock released. "Sure you can," he said. "You've done it before—"

"I-I-I can't rebuild him!" Wesker continued hysterically, fumbling like mad over his words. "R-Rebuilding _him_ is just about as probable as rebuilding _you!"_ He hardly noticed the metal around his left wrist had come loose. "I-I-I just can't do it!"

"Well, what do you suppose we do, then?" Rhino asked sharply as he started working on the cuff on the other arm.

Wesker thought for a moment, his brow slightly furrowing in concentration as he tried to collect his scattered thoughts. "There's only one thing we can do, Rhino…" he finally said. When Rhino looked back up from the other cuff, Wesker looked him straight in the eyes. "We need to bust him out of Arkham."

Rhino immediately lost his grip on the metal picks and his eyes widened on Wesker. "You can't be serious…" he said slowly. When his boss made no comment, he ran a hand over his face and down to his chin. "Lemme get this straight; you wanna break _back into_ the place me an' the boys just _broke_ you _out_ of?!"

"It's for Mr. Scarface," Wesker answered simply as Rhino returned to busting the lock on his other cuff.

Rhino paused to look back up at the Ventriloquist for only a moment. "You're crazy," he muttered as he continued working.

Arnold Wesker's eyes immediately hardened on the massive brute across from him. He loathed being called crazy, absolutely loathed it. "You _would_ pull that card, wouldn't you?" he growled in a low, menacing voice as he quickly pulled his hands off the table.

Rhino's eyes lifted when the cuffs were pulled from him. He stared at Wesker with confused, yet irritated eyes.

Wesker took his hand out of the unlocked cuff before he rose to his feet. "I may be clinically insane, but I think this is the most rational I have been in a long, _long_ time," he said coldly. "And if you're not going to help, I'll do it myself." He turned to leave.

Rhino's eyes widened again, finally realizing what he had done to upset him. He lunged forward across the table and grabbed the freely-swinging cuff at the end of the chain still attached to Wesker's right wrist. "Wait," he said. His grip on the metal gave Wesker little other choice.

The Ventriloquist turned and shot Rhino a glare, his glasses gleaming sinisterly through the darkness, and remained silent.

"I…I don't want you goin' back in there alone," Rhino finally said in an apologetic tone, hanging his head slightly. "You're gonna need my help."

Wesker's glare softened. The feeling of tension in the air seemed to dissipate and he started to relax. "T-Thank you," he mumbled as he pushed his glasses up his nose with his free hand.

Rhino looked back up at his boss. He opened his mouth to say something, but paused when the table creaked underneath him. "Oh man," he said with a half-embarrassed laugh as he released the chain and lifted himself from the table. He grabbed one of the metal picks, cleared his throat, and glanced at Wesker. "Lemme get that other cuff off."

Wesker stifled a small smile and nodded. "Alright."

* * *

A/N: Ever since I became a fan of Wesker (less than a year ago), I have always imagined him being somewhat...lethargic while rebuilding Scarface, to the point where he would have no memory of rebuilding him. I hope that kind of explains why Arnold is freaking out...


	4. Chapter 4

**Friends and Scars**

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I do not own Arnold Wesker, Scarface, or any of the other Batman characters presented. They belong to DC Comics (Batman, in particular). The other characters are from my imagination. This was written purely for fun.

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_Tap_

_Tap_

_Roll…_

That pattern of noise was the only sound to break the silence that had filled the hideout. His nimble fingers rolled and tapped softly against the wooden tabletop almost unconsciously as he sat deep in thought.

_Tap_

_Tap_

_Roll…_

He was happy to be out of the Arkham uniform and back into his regular clothing. His tuxedo jacket was draped over the back of the chair he was sitting on, leaving him with his vest and button-down white shirt. He was grateful that Rhino had grabbed him a change of clothes.

_Tap_

_Tap_

_Roll…_

Rhino had left shortly after removing the other cuff from his wrist. He said he would be back soon, but that was a few hours ago. Since then, Wesker had made some tea and been sitting at the kitchen table, staring off into nothing and thinking in silence.

_Tap_

_Tap_

"Arnold—"

The sound of spilling liquid and shattering glass followed swiftly after the short call from Mr. Friend. Wesker jumped violently and his tapping hand had jerked to where the small cup had flown across the room. He caught his breath and looked to where the broken glass lay. His eyes strayed to the table where half his cup of tea laid across the tabletop. As his heartbeat returned to normal, he shifted his gaze to the dummy in the other room with irritation mildly written on his face.

"Didn't we have a deal?" Mr. Friend began in a slightly irked voice.

Wesker didn't rise from the chair. He simply propped his elbow on the table and leaned his head against his hand. "I don't recall making any agreements with you," he replied innocently.

"You are supposed to talk to me, Arnold," Mr. Friend continued after an angry huff. "Doctor's orders…"

Unsure of how to respond, Wesker chose to remain silent. He continued to stare at the well-dressed dummy with half-bored, half-worried eyes.

"I don't appreciate being ignored, Arnold," Mr. Friend said sternly, as if he was speaking to a child. "Why won't you talk to me?"

"Maybe I just have nothing to say," Wesker finally said after a gentle shrug.

Mr. Friend chuckled softly. "Come come now, Arnold. You have been sitting there for hours, doing what? Just _staring_ at the wall?" When no response came, the dummy continued angrily. "I am not stupid, Arnold! You obviously have something on your mind!"

"I've been thinking…" the Ventriloquist confirmed simply.

At that, Mr. Friend heaved an exasperated sigh. He would have thrown his arms into the air in defeat if he was able to move freely. "It's a wonder that fellow Carface could ever put up with you…" he muttered.

"It's _Scarface,"_ Wesker corrected him softly as he began to fiddle with his hands nervously.

"Oh, well _excuse_ me," Mr. Friend replied sharply. "His name doesn't change how difficult it is to have a decent conversation with you! How on Earth did you two remain as partners for so long?!"

"We _are_ capable of getting along," the Ventriloquist shot back as his eyes darted to him, "and we are still partners."

"Then what a partner you are, just leaving him back there in the asylum," the dummy spat coldly.

A mild look of sorrow crept onto the older man's face, his brow furrowing and his mouth tightening into a frown. "W-We are partners…" he repeated in a soft whisper, sounding almost like he was trying to convince both Mr. Friend and himself.

As Wesker turned and looked at the spilt tea with distant eyes, Mr. Friend responded. "You two were not partners; you were his puppet—"

"I am not Mr. Scarface's puppet," Wesker snapped, his eyes returning to the dummy.

"Yes, you were," Mr. Friend rebutted firmly. "Dr. Myers has been telling you this since you were first brought to Arkham Asylum. And until you realize it's the truth, there is absolutely no chance of you ever being able to rid yourself of him."

"I don't want to rid myself of him!" Wesker shouted. "Mr. Scarface m-may be a bad person, b-b-but people can change! He's my—"

"He is your enemy!" Mr. Friend cut him off. "He is the reason you are ill! If you have any desire to recover, you _must_ save yourself from him!"

"He is _NOT_ my enemy!" Arnold Wesker yelled as he jumped to his feet, knocking the chair over to the floor. The man's eyes locked with the dummy's in a furious glare. "I need to _save __**him**_ from Arkham!"

The silence that followed his exclamation was long and tense. Mr. Friend was struck speechless, sitting lifelessly and at a complete loss for words. Wesker stood motionless, just staring past the doorframe at the dummy and silently regaining his composure.

The turning of a doorknob broke the silence. The pair didn't move an inch as Rhino walked through the front door, carrying a briefcase. His thunderous footsteps sounded as he crossed the room toward the hat rack behind the sofa Mr. Friends was seated in.

As he removed his hat, his eyes fell upon his boss. Rhino blinked, raising an eyebrow in confusion. His gaze fell to the dummy, and then back up to the Ventriloquist. He slowly placed his hat on the rack and crept into the kitchen toward his boss. "Mr. Ventriloquist?" he asked hesitantly.

Wesker flinched and looked up at the brute with startled eyes. "Oh! U-Um…" He immediately shrunk back into his timid demeanor. "S-S-Sorry, Rhino…"

Rhino blinked again before taking a look over his shoulder at Mr. Friend. "Everything go alright while I was gone?" he inquired slowly as he gazed back down at the Ventriloquist.

"U-Um…" Wesker stuttered before he removed his glasses with shaky hands. He rubbed his eyes and ran his hand down his face until his palm rested over his mouth. He stared at the wall with distant eyes as he drew a calming breath, in and out. "I-I've just been thinking, is all," he finally answered, putting his glasses back on.

Rhino continued to stare down at his boss, internally concerned for him. 'He's a nervous wreck without Mr. Scarface around…' he thought to himself. '…or maybe it's this dummy who's stressin' him out so much…' There was something about Mr. Friend that he didn't like.

He decided not to push for answers and went to put the briefcase on the table. He paused when he saw the spilt tea, unconsciously raising an eyebrow.

When the Ventriloquist let out another "oh!", Rhino glanced over at him. Wesker forced a nervous little laugh. "S-Sorry about that…" he said quietly. As he moved across the room to fetch some paper towels, he shot Mr. Friend an irritated look, but continued to move forward. "I, uh…" He paused when he saw Rhino staring down at the broken glass on the ground. "…sorry," he mumbled in a whisper.

Rhino's gaze lifted back up to his boss, a small grin forming on his face. "Boy, Mr. Ventriloquist, you think pretty violently," he said with a chuckle.

Wesker looked back up at Rhino, a very subtle look of puzzlement on his face. After a moment had passed, a soft laugh escaped from him. Rhino's grin widened when Wesker tried to hide a small smile, happy his comment had lifted some of the stress from his boss's shoulders.

"Here," the smaller man began after clearing his throat, "let me clean this up."

Rhino put the briefcase down on one of the chairs to help. Within a few minutes, the broken glass was picked up, the tea was wiped away, and they were both sitting at the table.

The massive brute placed the case on the table, leaving it unopened. He stared across the table at Wesker. "So, what've ya been thinkin' about? Did ya come up with anythin' yet?"

The Ventriloquist began to tap a finger against the wooden surface and gazed over at Rhino. "I've been thinking about my past stays in Arkham," he responded, "and the daily routines."

"What about it?"

"It's almost always the same," Wesker explained. "I've just been thinking about a time when we could actually…"

Rhino rested his chin against his knuckles, his arm propped up against the surface. "…break in?" he offered casually.

Wesker nibbled on his bottom lip before he nodded. "Right," he finally confirmed, looking uncomfortable.

The henchman stared at his boss, his brow furrowing slightly. "Y'know," he began, "you don't have to break into Arkham if you really don't want to."

"How else are we going to get Mr. Scarface back if we don't?" Wesker asked skeptically.

Rhino heaved a small sigh. "I guess I can't talk ya outta this, huh?"

"No," Wesker answered shortly.

"Now, just hold on!" came a call from the next room, making both Wesker and Rhino look up and distaste fill their expressions in unison. Wesker turned and looked at Mr. Friend.

"This preposterous idea isn't that monster's?!" the dummy questioned loudly.

"If by 'monster' you mean 'Rhino,' then yes, it isn't," Wesker replied. "This is my idea."

Mr. Friend sat in silence for a brief moment or two. "So…" he began in a cold and extremely irritable tone, "you _are_ capable of thinking for yourself—"

"Hey!" Rhino jumped up from his seat and glared into the next room. "Say somethin' like that again and I'll throw ya into the Gotham River with rocks stuffed into that dumbass suit of yours!" he threatened furiously.

Wesker stared wide-eyed at the therapeutic dummy, slapped into a stunned silence. He was vaguely aware that Rhino and Mr. Friend were arguing, much like Rhino was vaguely aware that he was bickering with a wooden puppet. The initial shock slowly melted and his eyes narrowed on Mr. Friend in a glare.

"Well," Wesker finally began in a calm, but severely irked tone, "your name certainly is misleading…"

"I'm sorry you feel that way," Mr. Friend responded, equally calm, though his words were dripping with sarcasm.

"I bet you are," Wesker replied as he rose to his feet. "And yes, I am capable of making my own decisions." He started moving forward toward the puppet with slow strides. He could feel Rhino's eyes on him, but he continued. "And no, I did not make the decision to save my boss. I didn't even make the decision to save my _partner._ No…" he paused briefly as he stopped in front of Mr. Friend, "I'm going in there to save my_ friend." _

Silence filled the hideout again. All eyes were on the Ventriloquist.

When there was no comeback or other response, Wesker slowly backed off. He took a few backward steps toward Rhino before turning completely to head back to the table.

"Fine," Mr. Friend finally said, making the Ventriloquist pause in mid-step. "Go and save the bloke." The dummy paused before adding smugly "I'd like to meet him…"

Wesker instantly became worried again, his eyes shooting to the dummy. A silence filled the gap between the Ventriloquist and the puppet. Wesker swallowed the lump in his throat and glanced back at Rhino, giving him a worried look that bordered on pitiful.

Rhino noticed that his boss had started trembling again. His shoulders slumped and he looked back to Mr. Friend. 'What does he have planned?' Rhino's concerned eyes returned to Wesker, who had returned to the kitchen table silently. 'Whatever it is…it can't be good…'

* * *

A/N: Wow! I just want to thank everyone for reading and reviewing this story! It means so much to me. Thank you so much.


	5. Chapter 5

**Friends and Scars**

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I do not own Arnold Wesker, Scarface, or any of the other Batman characters presented. They belong to DC Comics (Batman, in particular). The other characters are from my imagination. This was written purely for fun.

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The next morning finally arrived. After the incident with Mr. Friend, Wesker had seemed so preoccupied and off in his own little world that Rhino had decided that they wouldn't start planning until today. The rest of that evening was spent in an awkward silence, broken every now and then by Rhino making some comment in a feeble attempt to cheer up his boss. Everything he tried, to his dismay, seemed to fall on deaf ears. When Wesker had gone off to bed, Rhino prayed that all he needed was a good night's sleep to clear his head.

Wesker now sat at the kitchen table in a chair where he didn't have a clear view of Mr. Friend, who was still seated on the sofa. He had on a light blue button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. On the table before him was Rhino's unopened briefcase from the night before, another cup of tea, and a piece of paper he had found two or three hours ago. He tapped the eraser of the pencil in his hand lightly against his jaw, staring down at the paper.

He wasn't entirely sure what time it was when he had startled awake, but the sky was lightening behind the silhouetted buildings of Gotham. What he had known was that it was going to be a few hours before Rhino would wake up, being the late sleeper that he was. So he had decided to get started early on some of the plans.

With a gentle sigh, his eyes rose from the paper and moved to his tea. He lifted the cup with his free hand and—

A door slammed down the hall, making Wesker nearly choke on his tea. He managed to put the cup down as he went into a violent coughing fit. 'Rhino's awake,' he thought to himself, trying desperately to catch his breath.

As he drew a quick gasp of air, he saw Rhino enter the doorway. "Good morning, Rhino," the Ventriloquist managed to choke out before returning to his fit of coughing.

"What's so good about it?" Rhino grumbled, glancing at his boss with grumpy eyes.

Wesker pointed over to the countertop where the pot of coffee he had made maybe half an hour ago stood. "There's some *cough* coffee," he choked out. After having lived with the massive man between his stays in Arkham for the past several years, Wesker was well-aware that Rhino was certainly not a morning person. It took at least two cups of coffee to fully snap him out of his morning funk.

As Rhino poured himself a cup, Wesker hesitated a sip of his tea to clear the tickle from his throat. He took a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling, before gazing back down at the paper in front of him. He picked up the pencil and pressed it to the paper.

Rhino came up behind him and stared down at the piece of paper with bored eyes. "What the Hell's that?" he asked bluntly.

"This," Wesker began, clearing his throat and leaning back so the henchman had a better view, "is the layout of Arkham."

The massive brute blinked, downed a large gulp of his coffee, and continued to stare down at the lines on the page. "It sucks," he declared.

As he went around the table to sit, Wesker looked back down at his attempt of a map. "…It's better than nothing," the Ventriloquist mumbled softly in his own defense.

Rhino muttered something under his breath as he lowered himself into a chair. He snatched up his briefcase and opened it. "Here," he said as he tossed a folded mass of paper toward his boss.

Wesker eyed it for a moment, and then looked up as Rhino brought his mug of coffee to his mouth. He carefully unfolded the paper.

He found himself staring at Arkham Asylum's blueprints. His breath caught in his throat as his eyes shot back up to Rhino. "…Rhino..?"

"That'll be a helluva lot easier to read than that piece-of-garbage map of yours," Rhino grumbled, holding the cup just beneath his nose.

"How did you get blueprints of Arkham?!" Wesker exclaimed somewhat frantically, amazed and nervous.

"Does it matter?" Rhino asked carelessly.

The Ventriloquist's eyes darted back to the papers in front of him, and then back up to the brute. "Do you have any idea just how secured they keep documents like this?! Rhino, how on _Earth—?!"_

_**"Arnold!"**_ Rhino suddenly yelled, giving his boss an impatient look.

Wesker's hands immediately raised themselves in front of his chest defensively and he shrunk back against his chair. "A-Alright! Alright," he stammered, "we'll use this." His eyes remained fixed nervously on the brute across from him.

Rhino grunted a short "harrumph" before returning his attention to his mug of coffee.

Wesker continued to stare at him with concerned eyes for a few lingering moments. He finally lowered his gaze to the blueprints. He heaved a sigh of discomfort as he tried to decipher what was what on the blueprints.

A silence soon filled the air. Neither party spoke; Wesker was concentrating on recognizing some of the rooms and Rhino was concentrating on waking up. A length of time went by before the latter stood up to get another cup of coffee.

Wesker finally sat back and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I can hardly make heads or tails of this," he said with a deep sigh.

"Which is why Mugsy is comin' by later," Rhino retorted without turning. "'e and Ratso both'll be 'ere soon."

A hush fell over the pair. Rhino stood with his back to the Ventriloquist, sipping his coffee, as Wesker's eyes strayed back to the blueprints, then to Rhino, then back to the blueprints again. "…oh…"

* * *

The next half hour was spent in silence. Rhino sat at the table, watching the Ventriloquist with bored eyes. Wesker was looking back and forth between the Arkham blueprints and the poor excuse for a map he had drawn of the asylum, comparing and contrasting. Whenever he had found a room or hall he recognized, he'd rip off a small portion of his 'map,' label the piece of paper, and place it on the appropriate area on the blueprints.

He had close to ten rooms labeled when there came a series of knocks on the door.

Wesker jumped at the sudden noise while Rhino jumped to his feet. "Must be them," the brute said. Nevertheless, he drew his handgun and approached the door cautiously.

The massive henchman stole a quick glance over his shoulder to see Wesker peeking nervously around the kitchen doorway. He then returned his attention to the door. For a man his size, it was impressive how quietly he could sneak around. He looked out the peep-hole in the door.

After a few moments, he threw open the door and pointed his weapon straight…

…into the face of Mugsy.

The redhead mobster didn't flinch, nor did his eyes fall to the gun pointed at him. He continued to stare ahead at Rhino with a smug-looking grin on his face. The shorter man behind him looked startled at first, but quickly regained his composure.

"'ey, Rhino," Mugsy said in a cool voice.

Rhino slowly lowered his weapon. His eyes scanned the area behind his partners before looking Mugsy straight in the eye. "Anyone follow youse two?"

"Are we new to the business?" Musgy replied sarcastically. When Rhino scowled at him, Mugsy chuckled and patted the brute on the arm. "It's still kinda early, ain't it?"

"Get inside," Rhino growled as he pulled the redhead through the door. Once the two newcomers were inside, the door was shut and locked.

Mugsy swatted Rhino's hand away from him and began to straighten his suit, all-the-while shooting the massive man a dirty look. "Better have another cup of coffee, there, Rhino," he said somewhat bitterly.

His eyes shifted to the doorway leading to the kitchen. His gaze met with Wesker's, who was now standing partially in the doorway. "Good to see you made it out alright, Mr. Ventriloquist," Mugsy said with a grin as he pocketed his hands.

Wesker's eyes fell to the floor for a brief moment before glancing back up at Mugsy. "Y-Yes, thank you," he mumbled. He turned to the third man across the room. "And thank you, Ratso."

Ratso's eyes moved to his boss and he smiled, his rather large two front teeth appearing. "No problem, Mr. Ventriloquist. That bomb went off alright, right?"

Wesker remembered the explosion quite vividly and nodded. "I-It worked, alright," he said.

As Ratso and Wesker continued their conversation, Mugsy looked down at the cushion of the sofa. He raised an eyebrow when he saw the dummy.

"Is this 'im?" he asked Rhino in a hushed voice.

Rhino glanced over at Mugsy, who discretely pointed down at Mr. Friend. The massive brute made a face and nodded. "Let's get outta this room," he said softly. "I ain't in the mood to deal with 'im."

As the brute walked by, Mugsy stole another glance at the puppet. He followed Rhino, who ushered Wesker and Ratso into the kitchen.

Once they were all seated around the table (Wesker where he couldn't see Mr. Friend; Rhino made sure of that), Mugsy glanced at the blueprints across the tabletop. He let out an incredulous laugh and looked at Rhino. "You stole the blueprints to Arkham?!"

When Rhino grinned slyly, Mugsy laughed again. "That is too awesome, man!"

Ratso gazed up from the blueprints to Wesker, who looked uncomfortable by how comfortable his partners were about their criminal acts. "So, Rhino was tellin' us," Ratso began loudly so Mugsy and Rhino would silence themselves, "about your plan to break into Arkham."

Wesker looked at Ratso and straightened his glasses. "Well, w-we don't exactly have a plan _yet_, so to speak…but we're going to need some help."

"We'll help however we can," Mugsy said, completely serious.

"Okay. Firstly, we need to figure out where Dr. Myers's office is," Wesker said, glancing down at the blueprints. "Mugsy, you can read this, right?"

Mugsy grinned as he stood. "It's ain't a problem," he said, circling the table. He looked at the blueprints over Wesker's shoulder. "Which floor would it be on?"

"The same one as my cell," Wesker replied. As Mugsy began searching, Wesker's eyes fell on a black dot on one of the lines. He stared at it, curious—

"Here it is," Mugsy said, pointing at a certain square on the paper.

Wesker's eyes remained on the dot for a moment before he looked over at where Mugsy's finger was placed. He stared at the square, his mind's eye displaying his cell perfectly. As he mentally made his way to his doctor's office, his eyes moved across the paper.

A moment later, his eyes fell upon another single box: Dr. Myers's office. Without looking away, he blindly searched for his paper to label the room.

"You got it?" Mugsy asked as Wesker slapped the piece of paper down.

The Ventriloquist grabbed his pencil and scribbled a star on the paper. "Got it." As he leaned back, the other three leaned forward to see.

Wesker's eyes strayed to another little black dot. "Mugsy..?" When the mobster gazed his way, the Ventriloquist pointed at the dot. "…what do these spots mean?"

Mugsy stared at the small marking. His eyes moved up the line it was on and another similar dot appeared. "…They look like cameras," he finally murmured. "Security cameras."

Rhino glanced to one of the prints, his eyes running along the lines. "I guess we should find a blind spot on the outside as our entry."

No sooner had he said that, Ratso pointed at a section. "How 'bout here?" he asked.

"It's right by an exit," Mugsy said.

"And I take it that's a speaker?" Wesker questioned, eyeing a small box with a 'volume' symbol in it. He looked back at Mugsy. "Would you be able to deactivate the security system by messing with the wires inside that box?"

Mugsy looked down at Wesker, an impressed expression covering his face. "Damn, I'm surprised you remembered about that…" It had been years since he had done any rewiring for a criminal act. That talent of his seemed to have been forgotten.

"Do you think you could?" Wesker pressed.

"Uh…" Mugsy scratched the back of his neck and looked back to the spot Ratso was still pointing at. "…Yeah…Yeah, I think so."

"Great. So we have a way to get in," Ratso said as he leaned back against his chair.

"I don't think all four of us should go in," Wesker said, thinking out loud. When the other three men glanced at him, he continued nervously. "A group of four people running through Arkham won't go unnoticed…" He paused again before adding "We need to distract the guards and doctors."

The four were silent for a moment, each of them thinking.

"I could blow up the other end of the building again," Ratso threw out there, getting a mischievous glint in his eye.

"You just wanna blow stuff up," Rhino said, looking over at him.

"Let's try to be discrete about this, shall we?" Wesker mumbled, gazing back down at the blueprints. "We can have bombs as a backup."

"Are you even sure the boss will be in there?" Mugsy finally asked.

The question lingered in the air for a few silent moments. Wesker kept his gaze fixed on the starred slip of paper. He could feel the eyes of the other three on him as he pushed his glasses back into place. "I'm fairly certain Mr. Scarface is in there…"

"'Fairly certain'?" Mugsy repeated slowly. "Man, you've gotta be positive about this…"

Wesker gave a firm nod. "He couldn't be anywhere else," he said. "Dr. Myers _said_ he'd be in there."

"What exactly did the doc say?" Ratso asked.

"Exactly?" the Ventriloquist inquired. When he received a nod, he sighed softly and straightened in his seat. He rested an elbow on the table and lightly touched his fingertips to his chest. He cleared his throat and held his head high.

"'And if things do not work with Mr. Friend,'" Wesker said in such a confident, dominating, and unfamiliar voice it startled Rhino, Mugsy, and Ratso, "'you will be reunited with Mr. Scarface.'"

As soon as he was finished speaking, he returned to his regular demeanor. His head dipped and he shrunk back into his chair, fiddling nervously with his fingers. "…i-is what he said," the Ventriloquist mumbled in conclusion in his own voice and pushed his glasses up his nose.

The three henchmen continued to stare at their boss with awe-filled eyes. It was strange to them. They had gotten so accustomed to Mr. Scarface always speaking for him; it was like the fact that Arnold Wesker was, indeed, a ventriloquist and impersonator had slipped their minds.

Wesker looked up at the three when no one said anything. He glanced to each of them, and then down at the blueprints. His eyes moved to the speaker box at their designated break-in point.

His eyes widened behind his thick lenses as an idea hit him. His eyes shot to Rhino, who was grinning. "I think…"

"I think you just figured out how to distract all them guards and doctors," Rhino finished, a proud smile on his face. His eyes fell to the blind spot. "I think we're in business."

* * *

A/N: Alright, this one needs some explaining. For those of you who don't know, Mugsy and Ratso work for Wesker in Batman: TAS. I think Ratso had one appearance. Anyway, in the first Ventriloquist episode, Mugsy is reading a map or something. Thus, I gave him the talent of being able to read blueprints. Ratso looks like someone who would enjoy blowing stuff up...to me, anyway. So, he is the bomb guy. Now, the whole "messing with the wires" stuff in here is something I can see Mugsy being able to do. Of the four of them, I can see him being the kind-of technical guy.

As for Wesker, come on; he's an entertainer at heart. He has to know how to do impersonations. How else would he make the voice for Scarface and Mr. Friend so easily?

Thanks again for all the support I've been getting on this story! It is so wonderful to know that I have folks who actually read it. It warms my heart, really…


	6. Chapter 6

**Friends and Scars**

-----------------

I do not own Arnold Wesker, Scarface, or any of the other Batman characters presented. They belong to DC Comics (Batman, in particular). The other characters are from my imagination. This was written purely for fun.

-----------------

For a building that housed some of the world's most dangerous men and women, Arkham Asylum was surprisingly quiet this evening. The dark sky was still slightly tinted with the remains of the sunset. The moon overhead shone brightly, casting its light on parts of the building and shadowing others.

"Are you _done_ yet?"

Mugsy looked up from his work on the speaker box, his eyes full of irritation. He gazed down at the massive brute he was standing on. "The more ya ask, the longer I'm gonna take," he explained slowly before returning his attention to the box.

Rhino grumbled something under his breath, but kept still for the man standing on his shoulders. He took a quick look down at his boss.

Arnold Wesker stood silently, staring down at the ground. He had hardly said anything over the past day and a half, aside from discussion on the plan and his arguments with Mr. Friend. Each fight he had had with the dummy left him more and more drained and less and less comfortable with his decision. As if he wasn't uncomfortable enough before, the puppet only made it worse. He was just like he was after he revealed his decision to the dummy: preoccupied and distant. He wasn't even trembling--

"Mr. Ventriloquist?"

Wesker nearly jumped out of his skin when Rhino tapped him on the shoulder. His eyes shot up to Rhino and Mugsy, who were staring down at him with concerned looks.

"You sure you wanna do this?" Rhino asked again.

Wesker blinked, looking between the two men. He silently scolded himself for zoning out. He just had so much on his mind… There was his own escape from Arkham Mr. Friend still yelled at him about…the planning for his boss's escape…his constant bickering with Mr. Friend…and, of course, Scarface. There was no denying it: he really missed him.

He scolded himself once more when he realized he had zoned out again. He blinked from his thoughts and looked back at Rhino. "I'm sure," he said without fumbling for words.

A small beep ended their conversation. Rhino took a look at his pager. "Ratso's all set up," he announced. He glanced up at the man on his shoulders. "Are you done?"

"Yes, actually, I am," Mugsy replied sharply, giving the brute a harsh look. His eyes softened when they shifted to his boss. "Ready?"

Wesker drew a shaky breath and pushed his glasses back into place. "Yes."

With that single word, Mugsy cut a wire. Rhino knelt down for Wesker to climb onto his other shoulder. Wesker stood on shaky legs and put a hand on the wall to keep from falling.

Mugsy looked back at him. "Ready?" Once the Ventriloquist gave a firm nod, the redhead cut another wire. He pulled out the speaker, messed with a few other wires, and held it up to his boss.

* * *

"Alright, you only have ten minutes before it's back to your cells!" a guard yelled over the asylum's cafeteria. None of the inmates listened, nor did they really care. This was one of the few times during the day they were allowed to actually talk with one another.

"Did you hear--" the guard stopped in mid-sentence when the PA system overhead crackled into life.

"Code 1223 in the cafeteria," came the voice of one of the Arkham psychologists, Dr. Myers. "1223. All personnel to the cafeteria immediately."

"What the Hell?!" the guard yelled as he looked out over the criminals.

The criminals and villains were craning their necks, staring up at the speakers. They looked just as confused as the guards.

* * *

"Code 1223," Wesker repeated in Dr. Myers's voice. As Mugsy withdrew and turned off the microphone, Wesker cleared his throat.

"Hope this works," Mugsy said as he jumped off of Rhino's shoulder.

As Rhino knelt down for Wesker to hop down, Mugsy carefully pulled one of the doors open a crack. He watched a great deal of guards and doctors run by.

The massive brute looked over at the Ventriloquist, who was putting on a white overcoat. "If you run into _any_ problems," he began, pushing his cell phone into his boss's hands, "redial."

"Alright," Wesker mumbled as he pocketed the phone.

"All clear," Mugsy declared. He looked at Rhino and Wesker. "Good luck."

"Hold on," Rhino suddenly said. As Wesker glanced up at him, the brute reached into his suit and pulled out a small white ball. "Ratso cooked this up for ya," he explained, handing it to the Ventriloquist. "I'm pretty sure you'll know when to use it."

Wesker stared down at the sphere in his palm before placing it in his front pocket. He drew a breath and looked back up at the henchman. "Let's do this."

Mugsy stepped aside as Rhino and Wesker ran into Arkham.

The two criminals dashed across the empty hall and up the stairs, Rhino leading the way. They made it to the second floor and burst onto the landing. So far, everything was going smoothly, but the continued to press forward. They only had a small amount of time to be in and out.

Wesker saw the intersection approaching up ahead. He drew a nervous breath as he raced ahead of Rhino.

"_Any_ problems, Wesker," Rhino reiterated between breaths, "redial."

"Got it," Wesker said softly, without turning.

"Good luck," Rhino wished him quietly. He took off down the opening of the adjoining hall.

The Ventriloquist finally stole a quick look over his shoulder when the brute had vanished. He returned his eyes to the hall before him, concentrating on the trail to his doctor's office, displayed perfectly in his mind.

* * *

Farther and farther from the office and his boss, Rhino ran. He had only one task during this break-in, and he had no intention on failing. The guards and doctors were sure to quickly discover the warning over the PA system was a faulty. Once that happened, they would surely storm the building. It was up to him to keep those guards off of Wesker's tracks.

He stopped at the end of the hall, pausing to catch his breath. As he just stood there, taking deep intakes of air, he could hear pounding footsteps down the hall he and Wesker had just come from.

He pressed himself to the wall, his massive hand reaching into his suit jacket. He pulled out his handgun, aimed at the opening in the hall, and waited.

No more than ten seconds had passed before a guard appeared. The massive henchman pulled the trigger and fired, intentionally missing him by several feet.

The officer visibly flinched and his eyes shot to the enormous thug standing down the hall. His eyes widened when a grin spread on the man's face and pointed his gun again. "Intruder!" he yelled as he dove back behind the corner of the wall. "Intruder!"

Rhino fired another shot before he whirled around and took off farther down the hall. He took a peek over his shoulder to find seven men running after him.

He faced forward again, a small smirk on his face. The game of cat and mouse had begun.

* * *

The sound of a gunshot echoed down the empty hall, finally reaching Wesker. He didn't turn, didn't stop, didn't hesitate. He just continued--

A second shot sounded. As he turned a corner, he took a look down the hall he had just come from. _Two shots…?_ Lord, how he prayed they both came from Rhino's firearm. He had no idea what he would do if Rhino, or Mugsy and Ratso for that matter, were harmed in any way, shape, or form during this break-in…his idea…his decision.

He pushed those thoughts aside for later and focused on the present. He finally recognized where he was and continued to run toward Dr. Myers's office…

…_toward Scarface._

His nimble footsteps and light panting were the only sounds he could hear. His white overcoat billowed softly behind him as he ran.

His eyes lit up when he spotted his psychologist's office door. He slid to a stop and grabbed the doorknob.

The door gently pushed itself ajar with the release of the latch. He threw the door open and rushed inside. He flicked on a light and looked around. He was thankful Dr. Myers had already left for the evening.

His eyes fell on the massive desk sitting across the room. He moved toward it and--

"Freeze."

Almost instantly, he stopped dead in his tracks. His breath caught in his throat as his chest tightened with terror. A tremble covered him head to toe when the cocking of a gun sounded. His wide, panicked eyes glued to the wall in front of him.

Caught

* * *

Two floors down and halfway across the building, the group of seven had multiplied into a mob of twenty men chasing after one very large criminal. No additional shots had been fired, but the threats of doing so were coming more and more frequently.

"Stop now, or we'll open fire!"

Rhino didn't even turn. He sprinted forward and continued to try to catch his breath. Anyone in his way jumped aside in fear of being rammed.

He turned a corner and saw a large window at the end of the hall. His eyes hardened with determination as he whipped out his handgun again.

"Halt!!!" the guards ordered.

The brute pushed himself to go faster and he threw his arm forward. He shot at the window, weakening the glass. He lowered his arm and head as he thrust his shoulder forward.

"_**Stop!!!"**_

Rhino threw himself against the weakened pane. In a rain of shattered glass, he broke through the window.

At the sound of breaking glass, some of the guards opened fire.

Bullets whizzed by the falling criminal. One just barely grazed his right forearm. He let out a short growl as he landed.

He tumbled and rolled a few times before coming to a stop on his stomach. He could hear the sound of tires moving across the ground. As he jumped to his feet, a car pulled up beside him.

"Get in!" Mugsy shouted from the driver's seat as Ratso threw open the back door.

Rhino took one quick look at the enraged men in the broken window before he practically dove into the vehicle. "Go! Go!"

Mugsy pushed on the accelerator and they sped off. Once he turned a corner of the building, he cut off the lights.

As Ratso climbed into the front seat, the redhead glanced at the rearview mirror at his large partner in the backseat. "How ya doin'?"

Rhino remained silent, trying to catch his breath. He wiped the beads of sweat from his brow as he looked at his pager. Nothing yet…

"You're bleedin'," Ratso pointed out, looking around the car seat at the brute's right arm.

"I ain't worried about that," Rhino said between breaths. "Right now, I'm only worried about Wesker."

* * *

"Hands up."

_This isn't happening._

Arnold Wesker's arms sluggishly began to raise, almost unconsciously. His eyes were still locked on the wall opposite from him, but they were now unfocused and almost clouded. His heart pounded in his chest and his mind raced.

_Caught. I've been caught. I actually make it to his office, and I get caught. I'm probably less than ten feet from Mr. Scarface, for God's sake! I can't get caught! Not now! I'm so close!_

"Now turn around."

_He's in here; I can feel it. Mr. Scarface is in this room._

Wesker slowly began to turn, his heart and mind still racing.

_Rhino, Mugsy, and Ratso risked their freedom for this: my decision. I cannot fail. I have to get out of this._

He was finally facing the armed guard. He stared at him from behind his thick lenses.

_Mr. Scarface is in here. I didn't come all this way just to get caught. I can't get caught! Not now! I _can't_ get caught._

_I can't let this happen._

"Ooh…" the guard began, sounding almost like a hunter who had just cornered his prize, "decided to come back, Mr. Wesker?"

"That's Wesker in there?!" came a call from out in the hall.

"Yeah," the guard said with a laugh, looking over his shoulder, "the guy with the doll--"

His head whipped back around as the Ventriloquist lunged forward. The small man firmly planted his hands against the guard's chest. He threw all of his weight into a shove.

The guard flew back into the empty hall. He pulled the trigger upon impact with the ground and as the office door was being slammed shut.

The Ventriloquist drew a sharp breath, the air going in like a hiss. The soft spattering of his blood seemed amplified to him, being heard more clearly than the 'thud' of his back slamming against the door. His right hand shot to his wounded left upper arm and his eyes tightly shut. The bullet hadn't hit him directly, but the wound was deep enough to instantly draw blood and probably need stitches to properly heal.

He let out a squeak when he heard the guard bang his fist on the door and the jiggling of the doorknob. He released his arm and locked the door. He pushed himself away from the door and stared wide eyed at his two-inch-thick shield from the armed officer.

"Wesker, you son of a bitch, with your voice throwing! Open this door!" the guard snarled.

The small man took a small step back from the door and swallowed the lump in his throat. "S-S-Sorry!" he called to the officer.

"'Sorry'?!" the guard repeated furiously. "I'll make you sorry you ever broke in here, you bastard!"

His insult fell on deaf ears, for Wesker's mind was racing again. He turned and looked at the desk behind him.

The beating on the door and a throb of pain in his arm brought him back to the present. His eyes darted to the door for a moment before they returned to the desk.

_Scarface._

He rushed to the desk and threw open one of the drawers. He tore through the contents inside, but found no sign of his boss.

"Wesker! Open this door, NOW!!!"

"Come on…come on…" the Ventriloquist breathed frantically as he moved on to the next drawer. He threw it opened and, instantly, he froze. He just stood there, completely oblivious to the rampaging guard outside, leaning over the open drawer and staring inside.

He suddenly broke into a smile, a real, honest-to-God smile. "Hello, Mr. Scarface," he said gently. Down on the metal floor of the cabinet was his beloved dummy, just as he had left him.

"Dummy?" Scarface asked, sounding exhausted.

Wesker carefully picked the puppet up out of the desk drawer. "Yes, it's me," he answered softly. His eyes slowly shifted to the door. "…and I'm getting you out of here."

"You're _what?" _Scarface questioned, making sure he heard correctly.

The small man rose to his feet and closed the drawer. "The guys are outside with the car," he explained quickly. "All we need to do is--"

A loud slam against the door and the sound of splintering wood made him jump. His eyes shot back to the door, finally remembering the guard trying to break down the door. As his tremble returned, he brought the puppet up close to him.

"…is get outta 'ere without bein' noticed?" Scarface concluded for the Ventriloquist, his smart-ass tone creeping back into his voice.

Wesker swallowed the lump in his throat and slowly nodded. "R-Right," he stammered. "…or just making it out of here will do."

Before the dummy had the chance to make a comeback, Wesker moved across the room. He wrapped his arms around Scarface and held him up against his chest. He stood against the wall where the door was, next to the doorknob.

"Wesker!!!"

If one could see past the thick sheets of glass, they'd be able to see the determination in the Ventriloquist's eyes. He removed an arm from his embrace around Scarface and flicked off the lights. He pushed his glasses back up his nose before he returned his arm to its hug. He stood there, waiting…

The guard threw his shoulder against the door one last time. The lock finally bust and the door flew open, along with the guard. His eyes were still closed from the impact.

As the guard ran into the room, Wesker took off out the door. He sprinted down the hall. He heard the enraged curses from the office, the guard realizing the criminal had ran out. He continued, nonetheless, as fast as his legs could carry him.

He reached a staircase and flew down the two flights of stairs, careful not to fall. One slip-up, just one, and it would be all over. He reached the ground floor and burst through the doors. He took off down the hall toward the break-in point--

"Hey!"

Wesker's eyes widened, but he didn't stop. He hesitated a peek over his shoulder and nearly froze. A group of guards and doctors were standing down the hall. He returned his eyes to the hall before him as the guards began chasing after him. He upped his speed and raced away from them. Lord, he prayed Rhino, Mugsy, and Ratso were ready with the get--

_Ratso._

'Ratso cooked this up for ya,' Rhino's voice sounded in his head.

Wesker reluctantly released one of his arms around Scarface and he reached into his front pocket. He pulled out the little white ball and stared at it in his palm. He took a quick look over his shoulder, then back down at the ball, and finally up at where he was inside of Arkham.

He knew where he was, and he knew there was another hall that would take him to the doors that would serve as his exit. He knew said hall was approaching, and fast.

He took another glance at the sphere sitting in his palm as he turned a corner. He looked over his shoulder and he threw the ball down at the ground behind him.

As the ball hit the tile floor, there was a small shattering sound. Instantly, a cloud of smoke began to release from it, filling the hall in a white haze: a smokescreen.

The Ventriloquist continued onward. He heard the surprised exclamations and the coughing from the guards.

He found the hall he needed to take to get back to the break-in point. He turned the corner and--

--turned right back around. He sprinted back down the hall he had just come from, his eyes wide. Behind him, turning the corner of the hall he had just tried to take, another mob of guards ran after him.

Wesker glanced over his shoulder at the new group of officers chasing him. His mind was racing faster than he was running, trying to figure out a way to get out of this mess. Only one idea popped into his head, but it was incredibly risky. But he had taken the risk to break into Arkham in the first place…

With this plan in his head, he returned his eyes to the hall before him. He lifted an arm and covered his nose and mouth with his sleeve. He turned another corner and raced into his own smokescreen.

The smoke burned his eyes, but he couldn't stop. He ran blindly through the cloud of smoke, praying he wouldn't run into any guards still in the haze.

He managed to make it though the smokescreen and he sprinted onward. He blinked several times to return the vision to his stinging eyes, never pausing or missing a beat. He heard the guards and officers behind him again. He looked down the hall he was in, recognizing where he was. He knew he was getting close to the exit…

* * *

"Damn it, where is he?" Mugsy growled again. They had circled the building, and there was still no sign of either of their bosses.

Ratso was putting the first-aid kit back in the glove compartment, after having bandaged his massive partner's arm.. "You think he was caught?"

"Hell no," Rhino answered. "If he was in any sorta trouble, he woulda paged me by now." He paused, staring out the window. "Go back to the break-in point."

Mugsy did as he was told. He maneuvered the car and within seconds, they were outside the doors. There were no guards running around, and the doors were still closed.

Rhino cursed softly. "Alright. Go around the buildin' again."

Without a word, Mugsy drove off. He was about to turn the corner of the building when he noticed a light in his rearview mirror. He glanced up, and then whirled around and looked out the back window. "Holy shit!" he yelled when he spotted Wesker.

As the redhead did a sharp u-turn, Ratso and Rhino looked out the back window toward where the doors were now open. "Holy Hell, 'e made it!" Ratso exclaimed.

Rhino stared wide-eyed at his boss, taking note that he had something in his arms. "…and he got the boss…" He moved toward the door, reaching for the handle. "Slow down when ya get to him, but don't stop."

* * *

Wesker welcomed the cold night air against his face as he burst through the doors. He raced out onto the earthy ground, trying to catch his breath and his eyes darting around for any sign of the henchmen in the getaway vehicle. His breath became visible as it hit the air.

"Wesker!"

The Ventriloquist jumped, whirling around to see the angry guards in the doorway. He took off again, as fast as his tired legs would take him. Where _were _they?!

"I thought youse said they'd be out 'ere," Scarface said, starting to sound kind of worried.

"They should be," Wesker said breathlessly, glancing around again. "I don't know where they are."

He didn't hear the sound of tires against the ground, getting louder. He just kept running--

His eyes widened when he felt a hand grab the back of his collar. He finally froze after his hold on Scarface became tighter. His eyes slammed shut as he was lifted off his feet.

He landed on what felt like a leather seat, for he slid until his back hit something large. He didn't move, he hardly breathed, didn't open his eyes, and his grasp around his beloved dummy never let up. His panic and terror was half-replaced with confusion when he heard a car door slam shut. He felt like he was moving, bouncing slightly on the seat.

"Mr. Ventriloquist?"

He jumped at the voice. He cautiously opened an eye and looked around before he opened the other. He realized he was leaning against a body, his own lifting and falling with each breath the large body took. He turned and looked up at Rhino.

Rhino stared down at the small man leaned against him. "Are you alright?" he asked gently.

Wesker didn't answer. He stared at Rhino for a moment more before he looked toward the front of the vehicle. His eyes locked with Ratso, who was looking around the front seat back at him. They moved to Mugsy, who's eyes were on the road. He turned and looked out the back window at Arkham Asylum, disappearing into the distance and the darkness.

His eyes finally fell to his arms. He slowly removed his arms and carefully lifted Scarface up. He just sat there, staring at the puppet with wide eyes.

"…We… We did it," he finally breathed in absolute astonishment. "We actually did it."

* * *

A/N: I just want to apologize for how late this is. I lost the first version of this in a fire...yeah. This is the second draft. If by some off chance I am able to recover the first version, I may repost this chapter.


	7. Chapter 7

**Friends and Scars**

-----------------

I do not own Arnold Wesker, Scarface, or any of the other Batman characters presented. They belong to DC Comics (Batman, in particular). The other characters are from my imagination. This was written purely for fun.

-----------------

"You should 'ave taken your gun."

Arnold Wesker watched Rhino pace back and forth in the kitchen, his stubborn eyes following him. The brute had grown extremely distraught when he had noticed his boss's bloody sleeve. He had totally flipped his lid when he discovered the wound was from a bullet.

They were now back in the hideout, and Rhino had started lecturing the small man. Wesker was sitting in one of the chairs and now in his undershirt. Ratso sat beside him, stitching up his wound. Mugsy stood off to the side, smoking a cigarette.

"'e wouldn'ta used it anyway," Scarface commented casually. He was back in his gangster attire, minus his tommy gun, and sitting on the kitchen counter.

Wesker looked from the dummy back to the massive henchman. "He's right, Rhi-I-INO!" He cringed when Ratso stuck the needle back in his arm.

"Hold still," Ratso said dully. Wesker frowned, but did as he was told.

Rhino paused in front of the Ventriloquist. "Y'see, this wouldn't 'ave happened if you had taken your gun."

"It would have happened regardless," Wesker replied. "Besides, we made it out, didn't we?"

"But you could have _died!"_ Rhino exclaimed.

"But I didn't," Wesker shot back. As Rhino continued to give him a stern look, he pressed forward. "What matters…" His jaw clenched when the needle re-entered his arm. "…is that we made it out alive."

The room fell silent for a few brief moments. Scarface was the one to break the quiet. "Boy, Rhino, since when 'ave you been such a softy for Dummy?"

All eyes immediately shot to the wooden puppet on the counter before they moved to Rhino. The brute stared at the dummy with wide eyes, slightly stunned. He gazed back at Wesker, who was staring at the ground, looking completely embarrassed and uncomfortable.

"W-Well," Ratso began, breaking the now awkward silence, "I'm finished." As Wesker's eyes lifted to the smallest of the henchmen, Ratso cut the thread. He pulled out some gauze and began to wrap his boss's arm. "This'll hold until ya get to a doc."

"The all-famous Crime Doctor, you mean?" Wesker asked, not sounding the least bit enthused.

"Of course," Ratso replied.

"Of course…" Wesker sighed, his eyes falling to the ground again.

The three henchmen were well aware of Wesker's dislike for criminal doctors, but being in the business that they were in, they had to make do.

The small henchman's eyes briefly shot to the large thug across the room. Rhino was standing in the doorway, staring out into the living room with somewhat distant eyes, obviously still reflecting on Scarface's comment. Sure, it was true that all three of them treated Wesker differently when the puppet wasn't around, but Rhino was always the nicest to him. He was also the coldest to the Ventriloquist in Scarface's presence. Rhino had an image to maintain, that of the brutish thug Scarface knew him to be. For that kind of wrap, Rhino had always been Scarface's "favorite." He had the most to lose if the dummy knew he considered Wesker to be more of a friend than a boss.

Ratso cleared his throat and looked off at Mugsy. "Ready?" he asked, breaking another silence that had fallen over the five.

Mugsy's eyes dully fell on Ratso, giving him a bored look. He took a long drag on his cigarette before answering. "Yeah, we ought to go get rid of the getaway car. The cops are probably lookin' for it."

"Give 'em somethin' to find, boys," Scarface said from the counter.

Rhino finally snapped from his daze and looked over his shoulder into the kitchen. "…I'll walk youse guys out," he said softly.

Wesker watched the three men walk out of the room. He wanted to thank them all for their help, but they were out the door so quickly. He slouched slightly, but reluctantly rose to his feet. His eyes remained on the doorway for a few lingering moments before he began to put on a fresh white shirt. He felt bad about what Scarface had said to Rhino…

"So," Scarface began, making the small man jump, "what took youse mugs so long?"

The Ventriloquist's eyes shifted to the dummy. "W-Well…um…w-we--"

"Oh, never mind," the puppet scoffed, "I'll just ask Rhino about it."

Wesker finished buttoning his shirt and approached the counter. "I'm sure he'll be back in soon," he mumbled. He carefully lifted his beloved dummy, his eyes scanning across the puppet. He repositioned the hat atop his head and studied him over.

Finally, after his eyes had gone over the little gangster once last time, his hand slipped into his back. He took a deep breath and exhaled, all that stress that had accumulated over the past week finally lifting from his shoulders. He felt like he could breathe again.

"But I do 'ave a question for you, Dummy," Scarface continued, his wooden jaw clanking.

"What's that?" Wesker asked, looking down at the puppet at the end of this arm.

Scarface's glass eyes rolled up to him. "What was it that shrink wanted with us that day, before they separated us?"

Instantly, his eyes widened behind his thick lenses and his breath caught in his throat. He barely felt the tremble that now shook him to his very core. His mind was flooded with images of the interrogation room back in Arkham Asylum. He could hear the arguments he had been a part of over the past few days in his ears. He felt ill; his head was spinning.

Scarface, completely oblivious to the puppet master's reaction to his question, had continued on. "I mean, I can't remember much of what 'appened after we was taken to the room to talk to your shrink--"

He was cut off when his body suddenly jerked forward as Wesker began pacing back and forth. The small man was mumbling so softly and quickly, his words sounded like nothing more than gibberish. Each time he found himself facing the doorway to the living room, he would pause before he'd turn on his heel and march deeper into the kitchen. His free, yet shaking hand laid against his temple, his eyes darting about the room.

The puppet kept looking up at Wesker and back to the surroundings, looking confused and slightly worried. Each time the man paused in his soft ranting, Scarface was able to put in his two cents. "Woah, hold on." "Calm down!" "What's wrong?"

"_Arnold!"_ Scarface finally yelled, coming face to face with the puppet master.

Wesker let out a squeak and jumped when he found himself staring into those harsh glass eyes. He instantly stopped pacing around and froze to the spot. He took shaky breaths.

"I want ya to _calm down,_" Scarface ordered harshly, putting a sharp emphasis on those last two words. "Now, what the Hell's goin' on--?"

He was interrupted again when Wesker, against his better judgment, put his finger over the dummy's wooden mouth.

"Shh!" the Ventriloquist silenced his other half, looking at the doorframe with panicked eyes. "H-He m-m-might hear--!"

He let out a small shriek when the puppet tried to bite him, pulling his finger back quickly. His frantic eyes shot back to Scarface.

The little gangster's glass eyes gleamed sinisterly as he brought himself up until he was eye-level with the puppet master again. He pressed the small man back against the back of a chair, glaring down at him.

"You _touch_ me one more time," Scarface threatened, jabbing a stubby wooden finger into Wesker's chest, "and I'll--"

"Oh, _this _ought to be good."

At the sound of the English-accented voice, both Scarface and the Ventriloquist froze. In unison, their eyes wandered to the doorframe leading to the living room.

"I thought Hat was still in the nuthouse…" the puppet slowly remarked, his anger toward the Ventriloquist set aside for the moment.

Wesker swallowed the lump in his throat. "…T-That's not Mr. Tetch, Mr. Scarface…" he quietly remarked in a quivering voice.

Scarface's eyes briefly shifted to Wesker. They exchanged a quick look before the puppet turned to the doorway.

"M-Mr. Scarface, p-please don't go in there. I don't think it's such a good i-_DEA!" _He was cut short when his body lurched forward toward the threshold to the living room. He nearly tripped over the chair before stumbling after Scarface unwillingly.

They stopped in the doorway. Wesker caught his footing and took a quick look up at his boss. He cringed when he saw the surprised expression on the dummy's face. After a moment spent just sitting in an awful silence, he finally stole a peek over at the sofa where the dreaded character sat.

There was Mr. Friend, sitting as calmly as ever. He was just as he had been since Rhino had sat him there when the Ventriloquist was busted out of Arkham. His glass eyes seemed to be locked on the puppet at the end of the small man's arm.

Wesker looked back up at Scarface as the puppet's eyes hardened into a critical glare. "M-M-Mr. S-Scarface, let m-me explain--"

"Who the Hell's this?!" Scarface asked loudly, his arm lifting and pointing to the dummy opposite from him, not even bothering to look down at the Ventriloquist.

"The name is Mr. Friend," the English puppet remarked bitterly, "but you, sir, need no introduction."

The two criminals across the room continued to stare at Mr. Friend. Wesker's eyes were filled with uncertainty, yet slightly narrowed in suspicion and suspense. Scarface just looked pissed.

"I've heard plenty about you," Mr. Friend went on, still sitting lifelessly. "I've heard about what a terrible person you are from doctors. I've heard about you from Arnold, here." He paused for a moment. "And I've come to a conclusion."

"Oh?" Scarface replied, crossing his arms. "'n what's that?"

The English dummy kept his silence for another moment, creating tension and a heaviness in the air, and the two puppets continued their stare-down.

"I've come to the conclusion," Mr. Friend finally began in repetition, "that you must be destroyed."

As Wesker's eyes widened behind the lenses that sat on his nose, Scarface let out a bark of a laugh. _"Destroyed?" _he repeated skeptically.

Without warning, Wesker's arm shot forward. A call of surprise escaped from the Ventriloquist as he flew across the room after Scarface. He lost his footing and his knees hit the ground. When he looked up, he saw Scarface was face-to-face with Mr. Friend, glaring down at him.

"Just _who_ the Hell d'you think you are?" the mob boss inquired in the most threatening and menacing of voices.

Arnold Wesker's eyes darted back and forth between the dummies. The silence Mr. Friend was intent on keeping was making him so much more nervous.

His blood went cold when he saw Mr. Friend blink. The tremble that covered him instantly renewed as his eyes shot to the English puppet's back. Indeed, without his acknowledgement, his hand had slipped back into the dummy's back.

"My name," Mr. Friend growled, his wooden jaw clanking. He lifted from the sofa to match eye-level with Scarface. "…is Mr. Friend. And the only way for this man to be freed from your iron grip on him is to _destroy_ you."

* * *

A/N: So, I'd just like to apologize for how late this is. I've been busy with work and whatnot. And I'm sorry it's a short chapter. I've been debating about how to split up the story into chapters for the past few days, and this seemed like the best place to stop. Not to worry, though; the next chapter is going to be long. Very long.


	8. Chapter 8

**Friends and Scars**

-----------------

I do not own Arnold Wesker, Scarface, or any of the other Batman characters presented. They belong to DC Comics (Batman, in particular). The other characters are from my imagination. This was written purely for fun.

-----------------

The red tail lights of the getaway vehicle slowly faded into the darkness of the Gotham night. Rhino remained on the porch of the hide-out, watching Mugsy and Ratso drive off. He wasn't exactly happy to see them leave so soon after the break-out, but he understood.

Once the lights had disappeared, he found himself watching his breath become a visible vapor in the cold night air. His eyes rose to the Bat-signal against the clouds above. He made a face and his stare hardened into a glare. The Bat… no doubt he was out patrolling the city, looking for the Ventriloquist and Scarface right now, after that incident at Arkham.

Scarface… he really was a nasty little puppet at times. He was still reflecting on that comment he had made a few minutes ago about him being a "softy" for Wesker. If there was one thing Rhino was not, it was soft. He was one of the toughest brutes out there.

…but he was right in a way.

Rhino's eyes fell from the illuminated bat up in the sky to the ground in front of him, not focusing on anything in particular.

Scarface knew him to be the thug he was, hence why he still worked for the pair. But Wesker…the small, gentle man had actually taken the time to get to know him, and he knew that Rhino, while being the brutish criminal that he was, was still a human being.

And the massive man had gotten the chance to just talk to Wesker. After a few conversations with the man, Rhino hardly considered him to be a boss anymore; he was a friend.

Rhino worked for both of them loyally, but where did his loyalty really lie?

He pushed those thoughts from his head when he heard police sirens sounding in the far-off distance. He instinctively reached for his handgun, but remembered he had left it inside on the end table in the living room.

As he began to relax again, his mind began to wander back to Wesker and Scarface. The puppet didn't see the things the Ventriloquist was capable of, not like he did now. He would have never thought he'd see the day where Wesker, meek little Wesker, planned a break-in. Sure, it was all for Scarface, but whether or not he would see that was a whole different story.

A sudden 'thump' from inside the hide-out snapped the brute from his reflections. He straightened and looked back at the front door.

"What on Earth are they doin' in there?" Rhino wondered aloud, his eyebrows furrowing slightly in curiosity and uneasiness. He continued to stare at the closed door, the living room just beyond the walls, the sofa inside the living room…

…and a certain dummy sitting on the cushion of that sofa.

As Rhino's eyes widened, another 'thump' sounded. "Oh, shit, 'e found 'im!" He rushed to the door and threw it open.

He froze in the doorway.

Pressed back against the wall adjacent to the doorway was the Ventriloquist. He had a fearful look on his face, his eyes glued to Scarface and Mr. Friend. The two dummies were up in the air in mid-battle, their little wooden fists flying at the other's head.

Wesker's eyes shot to the brute in the doorway for a brief moment. "Rhino, you have to—" He gasped and quickly dodged a flying wooden limb. "—stop them!"

"Rhino, you stay _right_ there!" Scarface snarled, shooting the thug a momentary glare. "I'll handle this pansy Englishman myself."

Rhino remained where he was as the duel of the dummies continued. He watched the two puppets throw punches at each other, each looking equally determined to come out the victor. It was an odd sight… It was like his hands were battling, and Wesker was caught in the middle.

The Ventriloquist drew a sharp breath as both his arms shot outward. A dagger of pain shot through his arm where he had been shot earlier that evening. He flew across the room after Scarface and Mr. Friend, stumbling over the furniture and his own two feet. "Y-You two r-r-really need to s-stop!"

"Shut the Hell up, Dummy!" Scarface snarled as he gave the puppet master a murderous glare.

"Stop trying to control him!" Mr. Friend yelled, his clenched wooden fist colliding with Scarface's jaw. "He's not your puppet!"

The gangster-attired dummy threw a punch at the British puppet. "'e ain't yours either," he growled.

Watching with wide, nervous eyes, Rhino didn't make any moves to stop the fight. The two just threw punches back and forth, one of them occasionally dodging a blow, which led to Wesker being hit instead. Each time a little wooden fist would collide with the small man, the massive brute felt the urge to spring into action.

But then he would see Scarface…

Wesker gave Rhino a pleading look to intervene and stop all this madness. The glance was short lived, for he drew another short breath as his body lurched forward again. His legs rammed into a coffee table. With a quiet wince and without his arms to catch him, he toppled over and hit the ground.

Another gasp later, his arms shot upward and he was pulled to his feet. The Ventriloquist tried to shake the dizzy feeling from his head and focused on the two puppets in front of him.

"'e don't need you!" Scarface yelled as he threw another punch.

Mr. Friend caught the gangster's fist and his glass eyes narrowed coldly. "Sounding a bit jealous, aren't we?" he asked smugly.

Scarface's eyes widened for a fraction of a second before he growled in fury and threw his other fist forward.

Mr. Friend managed to catch his other fist. If it was possible, the smug look on his face probably would have tripled in that moment…

…and only for that moment. With another growl, Scarface drew his head back and flung it forward. The loud clack of wood against wood sounded sharply as Scarface's forehead slammed into Mr. Friend's. The Englishman instantly released Scarface's arms and brought his hands up to his head, cringing.

"I sure as Hell ain't jealous of you," Scarface snarled as Mr. Friend released his face.

The English puppet discretely looked down toward where he had been sitting for the past few days, on that sofa he had grown to hate. His eyes drifted to the end table next to the sofa. There was no way he could compete in a fight with this little criminal, he knew. His eyes slightly widened when they landed on something metallic. They then narrowed and shifted toward where Scarface was behind him, a sinister look forming in his glass eyes.

Wesker let out a little squeak when Mr. Friend pulled him down toward the end table. Scarface looked mildly startled when he jerked forward, too.

They both looked over at Rhino when they heard him softly gasp, something he didn't do often. The movement of Mr. Friend whirling back around brought their eyes back to the puppet…and the handgun he was now holding.

As Wesker's eyes widened on the gun, Scarface let out a short, mirthless chuckle. "That's how you wanna play?"

"This isn't a game," Mr. Friend replied in a flat tone. "This is the way it has to be."

The gangster's eyes didn't fall to the weapon that was pointing directly at his chest. "Says who?" he asked coldly.

"The man with the gun," Mr. Friend answered, his eyes narrowing and his finger tightening around the trigger.

An explosion of sound erupted through the hide-out as Mr. Friend fired the handgun. The bullet tore through Scarface's right side and the side of Wesker's hand. As Scarface's eyes closed and he cringed, Wesker let out a yelp. The bullet shot out of the puppet's back and hit the wall behind them.

Mr. Friend stared down at Scarface and slightly lowered the gun in his little wooden hands. His eyes widened when he heard the mob boss breath a curse.

He was about to lift the gun back up, but Scarface swiftly kicked the revolver from the puppet's hand. The weapon hit the ground with a solid 'thud.' Mr. Friend's eyes lifted from the fallen handgun to the puppet opposite him.

Scarface's eyes seemed to gleam with hatred from beneath the brim of his hat, which shadowed his face in darkness. He looked like he was shaking with rage, or the tremble that had covered Wesker had started to shake Scarface, too.

In another swift movement, Scarface turned to the other end table at the other end of the sofa where his tommy gun laid, Wesker unwillingly following. He quickly snatched up his weapon of choice and whipped around to Mr. Friend. He pulled the trigger.

Wesker's teeth grit in pain and his eyes slammed shut when four bullets ripped through his left hand in rapid succession. He didn't yell out this time, however, for Mr. Friend was shouting in agony. The Ventriloquist barely felt the dummy slip off his hand and hit the ground.

The Ventriloquist opened his eyes again and glanced over at Scarface, looking pained and taking shaky breaths through clenched teeth. His eyes darted down to the therapeutic puppet lying on the floorboards.

Scarface pointed his tommy gun down at the dummy's forehead, a murderous look in his glass eyes. "Learn how to take a bullet before comin' up against _Scarface_, you fucker." With that, he fired a single shot into Mr. Friend's head.

Wesker stared down at the bullet-riddled dummy with terrified eyes. Mr. Friend was dead…murdered! He may not have liked the guy, but he didn't want him dead! The blood from his wounded left hand dripped to the floor, the blood from his right down his arm.

Scarface's furious eyes shot to Wesker. "And _you!"_

The Ventriloquist startled from his daze as his eyes darted to the dummy. "M-Mr. Scarface, please, I was—"

The puppet shoved the end of his tommy gun to the man's temple, the end of the weapon still hot from the last shot fired. "I ain't blind, you fuckin' back-stabber!"

The massive man standing across the room finally snapped from his frozen state and tensed as the dummy reached for the trigger. "Mr. Scarface—!" he began.

"Shut the HELL up, Rhino!" Scarface bellowed, his glass eyes shooting to him for only a moment. "This is between me an' 'im!"

Wesker took a shaky breath, his mind and heart racing. "Mr. Scarface, _please_, let me explain—"

"There ain't nothin' to explain, Dummy," Scarface snarled. "Your back-stabbin' days are over."

As Scarface's finger tightened around the trigger, Wesker's eyes began darting around the floorboards, looking for some way to make his words heard to the puppet. His head bowed and he took shaky breaths through clenched teeth, his body trembling from mental distress. One of the only times he had decided to act on his own ideas, and this is how it ends… He closed his eyes tightly, his eyebrows fraught with pain and misunderstanding.

_I give up._

He drew a quiet gasp when he felt a massive hand press against his chest.

Rhino jumped between the two, one hand pushing the Ventriloquist back toward a wall and the other wrapping around the dummy at the end of his arm. The puppet's weapon fell to the ground as he was pulled free from the Ventriloquist's hand.

Wesker stumbled back into the wall behind him, still visibly shaking. His eyes were open again, but remained lowered and fixed to the ground without focus.

"Put me _down,_ Rhino," Scarface ordered harshly, hanging limp in the massive man's hand.

Rhino stared down at the puppet in his grasp, a look of anger in his eye. "No, Mr. Scarface."

If he could move freely, Scarface would have no doubt shown that he was getting more and more furious with one of his most trusted henchman's defiance. "You had better listen to me, you bastard—!"

The massive man put a finger over the dummy's mouth. "It's your turn to listen to me." He positioned the puppet in his hand to look at the small man across the room. "Do you see him?"

Wesker had slid to the ground with his back against the wall, his arms propped up on his knees. His blood dripped to the floor between his feet. His head was slightly bowed and his eyes were lost behind his lenses. He had stopped trembling, but he continued to take shaky breaths.

"How could this man ever betray you? This man saved you from Arkham," Rhino explained, his eyes never leaving the Ventriloquist. "He made the plans to save you; it was all his idea. The boys and I just did as we were told. Why would he break you outta Arkham just to double-cross you later?"

If it was possible, the puppet in Rhino's grasp began to look like he was thinking and not so angry anymore.

The henchman made Scarface look down at Mr. Friend's lifeless body. "This guy's been tryin' to talk him out of his decision all week." As his eyes traveled back to the Ventriloquist, he continued. "'e's been standin' up for you, Mr. Scarface, all week. Mr. Ventriloquist has been protectin' your name while you were gone." He paused briefly again. "Hell, even me and the boys 'ave been tryin' to talk him out of it…but he wouldn't hear of it."

He looked back down at Scarface. "You may think I'm loyal to you, Mr. Scarface, but Arnold Wesker is the most loyal man you'll ever find."

Scarface remained quiet; whether it was from reflecting on Rhino's words or Wesker being lost in his thoughts, he wasn't sure. All the brute knew was that the dummy made no response.

His eyes slowly moved back to the Ventriloquist. "He needs you, Mr. Scarface, and whether you like it or not, you need 'im. And youse two are more than just partners…you're friends."

And with that, the henchman fell silent too. His eyes lingered on Wesker, who hadn't moved from that spot against the wall. He had caught his breath, but continued to stare down at the ground, which continued to have droplets of his crimson blood drip onto its surface.

That silence was quickly broken by the sound of a car engine…a massive engine, from the sound of it. Rhino's eyes shot to a window to see headlights shining through the closed curtains. The tires squealed to a halt.

The brute flew across the room silently and parted the curtains just enough for him to see out into the Gotham night. His eyes widened. "Oh shit…" he breathed. He released the piece of fabric and moved to the front door. He threw the deadbolt and whirled around.

"Wesker, the Bat's here! C'mon, let's go!" Rhino whispered frantically as he moved across the living room. He paused in the opening of the hall and looked over his shoulder at the small man. He felt his heartbeat increase when he saw that Wesker hadn't moved, not a muscle.

His eyes darted from the Ventriloquist to the door, then back to the Ventriloquist. Back and forth, back and forth. He stepped back into the living room and knelt down in front of the small man. "Wesker?! C'mon, now's not the time for this!" He shook him lightly, trying to get any reaction from the man.

There was none.

Rhino took another quick look over at the locked front door with wide, panicked eyes. They lowered to the lifeless puppet in his hand.

After another brief glance at the door, his face hardened and he rose to his feet. He laid Scarface down on the sofa, took off his suit jacket, and tossed it onto the sofa cushion. As he began to roll up his sleeves, his eyes fell upon the bandage from his own gunshot wound he had received earlier. He took a few steps from his frozen boss and began stretching his arms, glaring at the front door.

The window suddenly shattered. In a rain of glass and torn curtain fabric, the Dark Knight landed in a crouching position, somehow completely shadowed. He slowly rose to his feet, glass sliding down his cape and off his shoulders to the ground.

"How'd you find us, Bats?" Rhino asked as he cracked his fingers.

Batman's head turned just slightly and his eyes fell on Wesker. "Gunfire," he responded in a low voice.

Rhino made a "psh" sound and crossed his arms. "Like there ain't any other gun fights goin' on tonight…" he growled.

The Caped Crusader's eyes returned to the brute, his eyes slightly narrowing in irritation. "The gunfire of a tommy gun," he further explained. "He needs medical attention."

"I know that," Rhino snapped, "but he ain't goin' back to Arkham."

"How else is he going to get medical attention?" Batman asked calmly.

"We do 'ave doctors in the underground, Bats," the thug growled, "and they know how to handle gunshot wounds."

Batman's eyes narrowed on Rhino again. "He is going back to Arkham," he said in an irked tone.

"Bullshit, he is," Rhino snarled as he jumped into action.

The man in black swiftly dodged the massive fist racing toward his head, ducking low. He pushed up with his legs and delivered an upper-cut to the thug's chin. Rhino stumbled backwards for only a moment, holding his jaw, before leaping back into battle.

His knuckles buried themselves into the Dark Knight's stomach, nearly knocking the breath from the vigilante. Another blow from the brute knocked him to the ground. He was back on his feet like lightning, his hand on his abdomen and his eyes on Rhino in a vicious glare. He studied his foe intently before he charged at the thug.

The Caped Crusader drew back his left fist and threw it forward toward his enemy's chest. Rhino easily caught the punch with his right hand.

As Rhino's left hand started forward to grab his other arm, Batman balled his right hand up. His fist slammed into Rhino's arm, right where the bandage was that covered his earlier gunshot wound.

The henchman clenched his teeth and cringed slightly, but just enough for Batman to pull himself free. The vigilante swiftly moved his body around the massive man and he brought his hands together, his fingers intertwining. With a short growl, he brought his hands down hard on the base of Rhino's skull.

Rhino let out a yell as he fell to the floor, darkness slowly engulfing his vision. He fought to keep his eyes open, but he inevitably gave in to unconsciousness.

Batman stared down at the defeated brute, his hand traveling to his abdomen again. That punch would certainly leave a nice big bruise…and would inherit a disapproving eye from Alfred, no doubt.

He slowly turned his attention to Arnold Wesker, who hadn't moved from where he was sitting. He noticed the blood running down his fingers and the red stain on his left sleeve.

The Dark Knight finally looked back down at Rhino and pulled his handcuffs and rope from his utility belt. He knew that he had to get Wesker to Arkham and have his injuries checked out. He quickly cuffed and tied Rhino up, making a mental note to contact Jim Gordon to come and pick him up on the way to the asylum.

Once he was done, he made his way toward the older man.

Wesker's mind barely registered the caped man's footsteps approaching. He just sat there, his brow furrowed and eyes downcast, lost in his racing thoughts.

The masked vigilante came to a stop in front of the Ventriloquist. He hadn't actually had the chance to talk with Gordon, but he had heard on the police scanner in the Batmobile that there was a break-in at Arkham for the second time this week. If that wasn't surprising enough, he heard Arnold Wesker's name pop up as the mastermind behind the fiasco.

And here he was, half an hour later, standing in front of a broken and bleeding man, his henchman tied up, and the dummy nowhere he could see.

"Wesker," Batman began, still standing rigidly and staring down at the man. He waited for him to look up at him. When he didn't, he repeated his name more forcefully. _"Wesker."_

Nothing.

Sighing lightly, the Dark Knight slowly knelt down in front of him, his eyes studying him carefully. "Arnold?" he asked, gently this time. Despite the little distance between them, the caped man couldn't see the Ventriloquist's eyes. How was it that light always caught his glasses at the perfect angle to make them gleam?

The vigilante's hands cautiously lifted and hesitated in the air. He drew another breath, in and out, and carefully removed the lenses from Wesker's face. The man's blue eyes stayed downcast and unfocused and his brow remained furrowed. "Arnold?" he asked again, waving his free hand in front of the man's line of vision.

When no response came again, he huffed and put Wesker's glasses back in place, though half-way down his nose. "Arnold, don't make me have to carry you to my car," he said more to himself than anyone, looking over at the broken window.

"…Wouldn't want to make you do _that…_"

Batman's eyes immediately widened and his head whipped back around to the Ventriloquist. "Arnold?" he inquired.

Wesker kept his eyes down and fixed to the floor. He blinked slowly and finally looked over the edges of his glasses at the caped man. He said nothing.

"Do you want to tell me what happened here?" the vigilante asked.

Wesker's tired eyes fell again as he took a breath in and sighed. "…I made a decision," he answered quietly.

As the Ventriloquist began studying his bloody hands, the Caped Crusader rose. "Come on," he said. He helped a very sluggish Wesker up to his feet. "We need to get your wounds looked at."

They both began to walk toward the front door at a very slow pace, Batman's hand firmly planted on Wesker's shoulder. "…where are we going?" Wesker asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Arkham," the Dark Knight replied shortly.

As the door was unlocked and opened, Wesker's eyes fell to his hands again. He slowly and painfully wrapped his left hand around his right, cradling his puppeteering hand and holding it close to his chest. His mouth tightened into a frown and his brow furrowed deeper into a saddened expression. "…I think that's a good idea…" he mumbled, sounding like he was pained beyond his physical wounds.


	9. Chapter 9

**Friends and Scars**

-----------------

I do not own Arnold Wesker, Scarface, or any of the other Batman characters presented. They belong to DC Comics (Batman, in particular). The other characters are from my imagination. This was written purely for fun.

-----------------

An investigator for the Gotham City Police Department snapped another shot of the shattered window before pulling the camera away from his face. His eyes strayed from the window on the first floor of Arkham Asylum, home to the city's worst, to the bullet-holes around the window frame. He stared at them dully, just taking the time to observe.

His eyes slightly widened when he saw a pointy-eared shadow pass over the area he was gazing at. He looked over his shoulder and drew a startled breath. The investigator's eyes followed the Caped Crusader as he passed by.

Batman kept his eyes glued to where he was heading, refusing to make eye-contact with the officer. He glared ahead.

Arkham Asylum… How he loathed this building. This was the second time he had been in this building tonight, and that did not make him happy. It hadn't even been two hours since he had handed the Ventriloquist back to the doctors and orderlies, and here he was again, strolling through the halls of the asylum.

The first trip over had been a silent ride. His passenger was lost in his thoughts again. He had kept his eyes low and was holding his bleeding right hand in his bloody left, never lifting his gaze or making any noise. The silence in the cab of the Batmobile was briefly shattered by the caped man calling Gordon to pick up Rhino at the hide-out.

Batman rounded a corner and continued down the white halls of Arkham. He could feel the eyes of the officers and psychologists on him as he passed by, but ignored them.

A few minutes after he had left the mental institution, he received a call from Gordon. Rhino was nowhere to be found. All Gordon and the GCPD found when they got to the hide-out was a pile of rope, a pair of handcuffs, and a bullet-riddled puppet.

It was right around that time that Batman's mood turned sour. Rhino had gotten away. It was probably those other two lackeys of Scarface, Mugsy and what's-his-name…

The Caped Crusader had been on the look-out for Rhino and the rest of the Ventriloquist gang when he received yet another call from the Police Commissioner. This time he was told to return to Arkham.

And that did not make Batman happy. Reluctantly, he complied and told Gordon he'd be there soon.

He stepped around another corner and saw Gordon standing outside a door and a large one-way mirror. Gathered around were a few other officers and a few Arkham workers. The Dark Knight silently approached.

"You called?"

Police Commissioner Jim Gordon glanced over his shoulder at the caped figure standing behind him. "He's not talking."

Batman's eyes shifted to the window before them. Inside the asylum's interrogation room sat Arnold Wesker. He was back in the Arkham uniform and his hands had been properly bandaged. He sat slouched in the chair, his head bowed. Despite not being able to see the man's eyes behind the thick lenses on his nose, one could assume his eyes were unfocused and downcast. He still held his right hand in his left.

"Any reason why not?" the Caped Crusader asked, his eyes not leaving the Ventriloquist.

Jim Gordon shoved his hands into the pockets of his overcoat as he looked back into the room at the Arkham inmate. "His psychologist says that he's in a sort of catatonic state. He's just been sitting there since you brought him in…"

The Dark Knight peered in the general direction of the Police Commissioner. "And you called me because...?"

Gordon looked at Batman. "He talked to you back in the warehouse."

"He barely told me anything. You think he'll talk to me now?" Batman murmured, sounding skeptical. "He's probably medicated."

"The doctor's haven't given him anything yet," he replied. The Commissioner's eyes didn't leave the Dark Knight. "It's worth a shot, Batman."

The vigilante looked directly at him, remaining silent in thought. He slowly turned his attention back to Wesker. With a deep sigh, he headed to the door of the interrogation room.

A female detective appeared behind Gordon. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" she asked, her words slightly accented.

Gordon's shoulders lifted and lowered in a shrug. "Only one way to find out." He fell silent as the Dark Knight entered the room.

Batman allowed the door to close behind him with a thud, watching the man at the table intently.

Wesker didn't flinch at the sound of the door. Normally, he would have jumped half out of his skin at the slightest noise, but he just sat there, indifferent to the world around him.

The caped man pulled out a chair at the other end of the table and sat down. He continued to stare at Wesker with somewhat hard eyes. "Talk to me, Wesker," he finally said after a minute, breaking the silence.

Wesker remained motionless. He may have blinked, but his eyes were not visible behind those thick sheets of glass that glared in the light.

Batman's mouth tightened ever-so-slightly, but that slight movement showed that he was getting irritated. "I'm a busy man, Wesker."

The vigilante blinked when he saw the man across from him lift his head ever-so-slightly. "…I know…" Wesker replied, his words barely audible.

Batman stole a quick glance at the window to his side before returning his attention to the Ventriloquist. "Why aren't you talking to your doctor?" he asked, already regretting getting involved here.

Wesker said nothing as his head tilted back down. He looked off to his left before he heaved a weary sigh and slouched a little in his chair.

Batman breathed a soft sigh of his own. What was he supposed to say? He was no psychologist… "It's, um, awfully rude of you to be ignoring your doctors."

The Ventriloquist's head perked right back up and his eyebrows slightly lifted. As his head slowly turned to face the caped man directly, his mouth tightened into a frown and he glared at him. "…Are you trying to manipulate me, too?" he asked in an icy tone.

The Dark Knight's eyes immediately narrowed and the two exchanged cold stares. A heavy silence hung between them for a lingering moment before Batman finally spoke. "Why aren't you talking to your doctors, Arnold?" he repeated, this time with more bite to his words.

Wesker blinked and looked away from the vigilante, his expression returning to that of despair. He kept his mouth shut and his thoughts to himself for a moment or two as he swallowed the lump in his throat with some difficulty. He softly bit his quivering bottom lip. "…I…I…" He could hardly find the will to speak. His throat felt tight.

Batman's face had softened when he saw the man's expression deteriorate from irritation to complete misery. He found himself wondering what really happened back at the hide-out before he had arrived… He knew that there was a fight; he had seen Wesker's bullet-riddled hands numerous times before. But what was so different about this certain event?

"Arnold," the Dark Knight began lightly, bringing the Ventriloquist's eyes back to him in a worried gaze, "you can tell me what happened."

Wesker stared at him with fretful eyes, continuing to nibble gently on his bottom lip. The tremble that had coursed through him earlier that evening returned to his body. He blinked and looked off to his left again, swallowing a second time. "…I-I made a decision…" he answered softly. "…I decided to act…" His eyes strayed to his bandaged hands, now shaking. "…and look what happened."

Batman drew a breath to respond, but was interrupted when there came a soft rapping on the glass window. The vigilante's eyes drifted over to the one-way window, a hint of distaste in his glance. He briefly looked back at Wesker, who continued to stare down at his trembling hands, before he rose to his feet. He swiftly moved to the door and stepped out of the room.

One of the doctors approached the caped vigilante apprehensively. "We cannot allow you to keep talking to him at the moment," he said, his voice coated in a layer of confidence. "He's getting agitated."

"At least he's not catatonic anymore," Batman replied crossly. He peered through the window at the small man at the table for another moment, and then turned to Gordon. "I'll keep looking for Rhino and the rest of the gang."

Gordon nodded, making no move to stop the irritated vigilante. "I should probably head back out, too," he replied.

As the Commissioner began walking down the hall with some of his officers, the Dark Knight took one final look at Wesker. As much as he hated Arkham Asylum, he was somewhat content he had come tonight. Despite what very little the small man had actually said aloud, the vigilante had learned a great deal of the situation and Wesker alike.

The Caped Crusader began walking down the hall, hoping Wesker would be able to recover properly from his ordeal in the hands of the doctors here…

* * *

He felt dizzy. His head felt like it was spinning and he could hardly keep his balance. Besides these two sensations, he felt numb.

And if he hadn't been given medicine, he wouldn't be feeling anything at all.

Wesker was half-walking, half-being-dragged toward solitary confinement when the medication began to kick in. While his body seemed sluggish, his mind was still racing at a thousand miles per minute. His brief interaction with the Batman seemed forgotten, for he was obsessively reflecting on Scarface. As much as he wanted to give in to the numbing of the medicine, to allow all of his thoughts to cease for that night, his mind seemed to be fighting back the drug's effects with an iron fist.

He realized that he had come to a stop and looked up with weary eyes. The cold metal door to solitary confinement loomed before him, beckoning him to enter. He hardly noticed that his glasses had been removed by one of the guards. Solitary confinement… _Solitude…_ He may not have shown any resistance as he was dragged into the room, but a new feeling gripped him, that of terror.

The guards left the Ventriloquist standing in the dimly lit room, completely empty save for a mattress on the ground. The closing of the door sounded thunderous to him, locking him away from any other soul. He was alone; truly and utterly alone.

And the feeling wasn't just that of being by himself.

With some effort, he moved toward where he thought a corner was supposed to be. He gently ran into a padded wall and followed it to its end. He turned around slowly and slid to the ground, still holding his hand.

Scarface was furious with him… He thought he was unloyal. Wesker knew all too well that when the dummy suspected anyone of that, he killed them instantly. He tried explaining, but to no avail. He was still unsure how he was still alive, but he knew that the puppet would never forgive him, never hear his words of reason.

He drew his knees up toward his chest and stared into nothing, his eyes completely unfocused. His brow became fraught with worry and despair again.

He would have been able to live with Scarface being mad at him; he had done just that so many times in the past. Even if there was no promise of forgiveness from the puppet, he knew he wouldn't be completely alone if he ever did get out of Arkham. He knew Scarface would always keep him around.

And there was Rhino, ever-loyal Rhino. He had just stood there, watching the whole scene before him. Why hadn't he tried to intervene? Why had he just stood there?! He knew that the small man had needed his help, but he remained firm, never moving. Yes, Scarface had told him not to move…but even when the situation had become life-threatening when the first gun was drawn, why didn't he spring into action?

The Ventriloquist's eyes clenched shut and he curled into a tight ball. He didn't want to think. He didn't want to think about how alone he really was. He didn't want to think that if he ever did get out of Arkham again, how alone he'd be.

He didn't want to think he would forever be in solitary confinement.

* * *

Arnold Wesker was led to Dr. Myers' office, his eyes downcast and his pace still somewhat sluggish. He had just been given his glasses back. His night in solitary confinement was nearly unbearable. Despite the heavy dosage of sedatives and his normal sleep medications, he experienced terrible nightmares and restlessness. When the guards had finally returned, they found him in the corner, trembling and still looking beyond nervous.

He was stopped in front of the door, his eyes finally rising. His mood only grew gloomier when he saw the busted door.

"Arnold."

Wesker's eyes focused past the splintered doorframe to the psychologist standing behind his desk.

Dr. Myers stared at his patient with a slightly worried look in his eyes. He was just now allowed back into his office to grab a few files he needed for his appointments today. He had been called by the head of the asylum shortly after the break-in last night. He then received another phone call by Gotham Police Commissioner Jim Gordon when news that the Batman had caught the Ventriloquist had arrived.

"How are you feeling this morning?" the doctor asked gently. He raised an eyebrow when he saw the small man's gaze had wandered to the office floor. He noticed the frown on his face and looked down at the ground too.

He found dried red droplets of blood.

Dr. Myers looked back to his patient to see that he had finally released his right hand, which was now resting on his left upper arm. "You were shot in here, too?" he asked, sounding somewhat shocked.

Wesker looked down at the ground by his feet and slowly nodded.

The psychologist walked across the office, Wesker's file in hand, to his patient's side. "How many times were you shot yesterday?!"

The Ventriloquist released his arm and returned it to the thickly bandaged palm of his left hand. He shrugged lightly. "…six?" he answered hesitantly and quietly.

Dr. Myers stared at the small man with wide eyes, unable to think of something to say. After a silent moment had passed, he turned and gazed at the guards behind the inmate. "Let's get to the other office and discuss what happened," he said slowly.

The group moved down the hall, Dr. Myers in the lead, Wesker in the middle, and the two guards to his sides, each with a hand firmly planted on his small shoulders. No one said anything; the only sound to be heard echoing down the corridors was their footsteps.

They finally made it to the doctor's temporary office. Once the Ventriloquist and the psychologist were seated, the guards left and locked the doors.

Dr. Myers opened his file on the man across from him and briefly studied him over. The small man was fiddling with the bandages on his hands. The expression on his face told the doctor that his patient was lost in his thoughts.

With an intake of air and a soft exhale, the doctor began. "So, Arnold, would you like to tell me what happened since you escaped a few days ago?"

Wesker's eyes rose to his psychologist. That look of despair and nervousness never left his face. He remained silent, thinking over the question, and his eyes fell again.

The psychologist took no offense to this. He allowed a length of time to pass for the small man across from him to answer. When no response came, he thought of another question to ask.

"…I take it things didn't go well with Mr. Friend?"

Wesker's eyes shot to his doctor, a look of fright and hostility mixing with his distressed depression. He stared at Dr. Myers with wide eyes, hardly aware that the tremble covering him had doubled.

"…N-No, things didn't," the Ventriloquist finally replied.

"Can you tell me why?" Dr. Myers pressed mildly.

The patient swallowed the lump in his throat with some trouble. "H-He was almost more manipulative than…t-than…" He could hardly bring himself to say the name of his once-beloved dummy.

"Manipulative?" Dr. Myers repeated. "Didn't he want to try to help you?"

"H-He did, yes," Wesker admitted, "but he kept criticizing me… In some way, he was more abusive than…than M-Mr. …" He paused to collect himself. "The only way he saw to "cure" me was…to kill him…"

The psychologist blinked. How was this man able to turn Mr. Friend into a worse enemy than Scarface was? "And then the two met, yes?" he asked, already fully aware that the therapeutic dummy had five bullet-holes puncturing through his wooden body.

The small man nodded nervously.

"And it was a violent meeting, yes?"

Another nod.

"What happened after Mr. Friend was killed?"

The man's shaking came to a complete stand-still. His brow furrowed and he looked his doctor square in the eye. "…He turned the gun on me," he replied, his voice hardly above a whisper. His eyes fell to his bandaged right hand. "He called be a back-stabber…" His eyes rose back to Dr. Myers and his tremors returned. "I-I tried explaining, b-b-but he wouldn't listen!" He paused to take a shaky breath. "He's never going to forgive me…"

Dr. Myers continued to stare at his patient, albeit with a more worried look on his face. "But you did nothing wrong to him," he replied.

"Oh, but I did," Wesker mumbled sadly. "I made a decision. The plot to break him out of here…the plan to get him to safety… All my idea." He felt his throat beginning to tighten, but he pushed forward. "And he thinks I betrayed him… I spent the week enduring ridicule from Mr. Friend and making the plans to rescue him…" He forced a depressed little laugh. "I thought I felt alone then…"

As Wesker closed his eyes and brought a hand up to his forehead, Dr. Myers studied him. "Alone?"

Wesker didn't move his hand from his face. "…Rhino… he protested my plan to break in here, but he helped… but when the time came…h-his true loyalties came to light." He paused again, this time to nibble on his quivering bottom lip. His brow became fraught with despair again and his shoulders lifted as his body tensed. "…I thought I was alone before… but I have never felt more alone in my entire life."

* * *

A/N: Again, I'd like to thank everyone for the lovely reviews. This chapter was a bit of a doozy to write...coming down from the climax of the story, so the chapters aren't as action packed...but they are still difficult to write. I really do get sad when I write scenes where the main character is severely depressed... Poor Wesker...


	10. Chapter 10

**Friends and Scars**

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I do not own Arnold Wesker, Scarface, or any of the other Batman characters presented. They belong to DC Comics (Batman, in particular). The other characters are from my imagination. This was written purely for fun.

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Dr. Myers sat alone in his office, going over some paperwork. Things were actually quiet for a change… It had been two days since the latest break-in of Arkham, and things were still in the process of getting back to normal. His eyes rose briefly to his office doorway, where his new door had yet to be installed.

'At least they cleaned up the blood…' he thought to himself.

And there hadn't been any other visits from the Gotham City Police Department or from the masked vigilante; for that, the psychologist was grateful.

After breathing a tired sigh, he returned his attention to his work.

Not a minute had passed before the speaker on his desk suddenly sounded. "Doctor Myers?" came a voice, making him jump and nearly drag his pen across his papers.

"Yes?" the psychologist finally answered, after having regained his composure.

"You have a package downstairs in the lobby."

His eyebrow unconsciously lifted. "A package…?" he repeated to himself. His brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed on the speaker. "…Has it already been scanned?"

"Yes, sir."

The doctor breathed a sigh of relief. It wouldn't have been the first time the asylum had received bombs or something, hand-delivered directly into the lobby. "I'll be right down," he replied as he rose from his chair.

He stepped through his tattered doorway and began walking down the hall toward the staircase. He moved silently, his chin level and his eyes focused on the pathway before him. A package… He wished the guards hadn't been so vague.

In a matter of moments and after punching in a code to get past the doors that led to the patients, he reached the lobby. He saw a few guards standing around a rather large box, looking on edge and ready for anything.

One of the guards turned and saw the psychologist. He held up an envelope and waved it for a moment. "This also came with the package."

Dr. Myers eyed the man nervously and reached into his pockets. He pulled out a pair of latex gloves and put them on. The guard then handed the envelope to the doctor and stepped back.

His eyes scanned the front of the slip of paper. There was no return address, and his name was spelt in big, clumsy letters. He took a breath and slowly opened the piece of postage.

The guards in the lobby watched as the psychologist pulled out a piece of paper. He read the letter in silence. When he looked up from the paper, his eyebrows shot up.

* * *

"Hi, Arnie!"

Wesker was being escorted to his designated chair when Harley Quinn suddenly broke the silence that was hanging over the Arkham inmates present for group therapy. He gazed at the blonde with tired eyes, who was staring back at him with a big smile on her face and waving her hand frantically as if he were still across the room. He could feel the eyes of Jervis Tetch and Pamela Isley on him.

"Where've you been for the past two days?" Harley continued once he had sat down and the guards had started leaving the room.

"'Two days wrong…'" Jervis said in a disapproving tone, wagging a finger at the Ventriloquist. He looked past the small man at Poison Ivy. "'I told you butter wouldn't suit the works.'"

The redhead gave the Mad Hatter a dull and irritated look before she glanced back at the small man sitting next to her. "So, Wesker, how'd you manage to escape and get caught all within the same week?"

Wesker's mouth tightened into a frown and his eyes fell to the floor in front of him. He kept his thoughts to himself.

Poison Ivy opened her mouth to make another comment, but was interrupted as the group leader walked into the room. "My sincerest apologies," she said slightly breathlessly as she took her seat at the head of the circle. She quickly jotted down some notes on her clipboard. "Hello, everyone." She briefly looked up from her board at the small man in front of her. "Welcome back, Arnold."

As her eyes returned to her notes, Wesker sunk ever-so-slightly in his chair, his brow furrowing.

The group leader put down her pen and looked back up at the four villains before her. "First things first, would anyone like to share something?"

"Go ahead, Harley," Ivy said, playfully elbowing her blonde friend, "you won't be interrupted by a particularly foul-tempered puppet this time."

Wesker sunk deeper into his chair.

"Do you have something to share with the rest of the group, Miss Isley?" the group leader asked in a deliberate tone.

"Not likely," the redhead replied without hesitation, her eyes shooting to the woman in white for a brief moment. A small smirk quickly formed on her face as she glanced over at the Ventriloquist. "…but I know someone who might."

A moment was spent in silence. The small man turned his head just slightly to look over at Ivy. When he saw that she was staring at him, he returned his eyes to the ground and slowly leaned away from her.

"So, Mr. Wesker," Ivy began in the most overly-friendly tone, "what happened to your hands?"

"I think that's just about enough, Pam," the female doctor said, no longer trying to hide how irritated she was getting.

"What?" Ivy asked in an innocent tone, shrugging and looking back at the doctor for a second. "I think we have a right to know. After all, it's thanks to him that our privileges were taken away _twice_ this week."

Wesker by this point had slumped deeper into his chair and was now fiddling nervously with the bandages around his hands. He kept his silence, trying in no way to protect himself from the redhead's ridicule.

"'Tut, tut, child,'" Jervis scolded while giving Ivy a distasteful eye. "The man's been through enough," he said, finally breaking away from his usual Wonderland quotes. He put a reassuring hand on Wesker's shoulder. "Take it easy, Miss Ivy."

"Yeah, Red, and besides," Harley began slowly, "Arnie didn't exactly plan his own escape."

The Ventriloquist stared over at the blonde patient, his nervousness for the moment replaced with confusion. Why were they protecting him…? His eyes drifted to the group leader when she cleared her throat.

"And I think that what Arnold did when he came back was very brave," the doctor explained calmly. She looked directly at Wesker. "Yes, what you did was illegal, but I think it really shows a lot about you, Arnold. You are capable of great things and you are your own man, capable of making your own decisions." She paused again to fold her hands on her clipboard and smile. "You risked quite a lot for Scarface; that shows a great deal of courage and loyalty."

At the mention of the dummy's name, Wesker's eyes dropped to the floor. He swallowed the lump in his throat and remained silent.

A soft giggle brought his eyes back to Harley Quinn. She tried to stifle her grin behind her hand and glanced over at Ivy. "Loyalty, hmm?" She giggled again before she started in a sing-song voice "Wesker and Scarface, sitting in a…"

That feeling of nervousness was instantly renewed when she started singing the childish rhyme. A movement from behind her briefly caught his eye: the opening of the door. He looked back at Harley—

His eyes shot back to the doorway as he instantly straightened in his chair. His eyes were wide behind the thick lenses that sat on his nose and were locked on the doorway. He nearly stopped breathing; all he could do was stare in shock.

His sudden movements made the blonde stop singing. She raised an eyebrow at him and turned to look behind her at what had caught his attention. The other three in the room did the same.

There in the doorway stood Dr. Myers, an open envelope in one hand and Wesker's beloved dummy in the other: Scarface.

Dr. Myers stayed in the doorway, his body propping open the doors. His eyes remained on the Ventriloquist for a moment before they shifted to the group leader. "I'm terribly sorry to interrupt, but…could I possibly borrow Arnold from you, just for a moment?"

The woman in white glanced over at the small man across from her, whose eyes remained locked on the asylum-dressed puppet in his psychologist's arms. She peered back over at Dr. Myers. "I think that perhaps I should take group somewhere else for a little bit… He looks a bit surprised at the moment."

"A bit?" Ivy repeated sarcastically before Harley gently elbowed her in the side.

As Dr. Myers began to object, the group leader jumped to her feet. "How about a walk around, everyone?" she said in a cheerful voice.

Jervis and Harley were instantly up out of their seats. "Sounds good to me!" Harley said, sounding equally cheerful. Pam was pulled to her feet and the small group was soon past Dr. Myers.

"Good luck," the female doctor whispered to the psychologist as she stepped by.

Dr. Myers watched them all leave with mildly startled eyes. 'Well, no use fighting it now…' He turned his attention to the only man left in the room, his eyes still fixed on the dummy. He allowed the door to swing shut behind him and he crossed the room, his patient's eyes following him the entire time. He pulled the group leader's chair forward to where it was directly across from Wesker. "Hello, Arnold."

Wesker's eyes darted up to his doctor for a fraction of a second before they shot back to Scarface, who was sitting lifelessly across the doctor's lap. He had started trembling again and he took shaky, nervous breaths.

"A letter came in the mail today, Arnold," Dr. Myers continued in a professional and calm demeanor, completely opposite from his patient's behavior. "I thought you might like to read it."

The Ventriloquist's eyes shot back to his psychologist. "…A-A l-l-letter…?" he managed to stammer.

The doctor confirmed it with a firm nod. "Yes," he said before he held the letter out toward his patient. "I'd like you to read it."

Wesker's eyes fell to Scarface for a moment before they came to a rest on the piece of paper in his doctor's hand. He began nibbling on his bottom lip nervously as he slowly took the letter into his own bandaged hands. He took a final look at Dr. Myers before he began to read the clumsy handwriting on the sheet:

_Hey Arnold,_

_I didn't mean for you to get hurt. I should have stepped in when that English guy grabbed my gun, not when Mr. Scarface had his aimed at your head.__ Anyway, I explained to Mr. Scarface what happened over the past few days. I think he's sorry… I know I am. You two belong together. You said it yourself a couple days ago; you're buddies. _

_Me and the boys wish you a speedy recovery, and we'll be waiting for you. _

_Get well soon,_

_Rhino_

Wesker's eyes went back over the letter, making sure he had read correctly. His shaking had stopped as he was reading the note and his nervousness had lifted, being replaced with a confused awe. He stared at the paper for a few lingering moments before he slowly gazed up at his doctor. "When did you get this?"

"Twenty or so minutes ago," Dr. Myers replied softly.

The small man's eyes fell to the puppet. "…H-He turned him in… W-Why on Earth would Rhino do something like that?! Doesn't he know that he'll get mad at him and—?!"

"I don't think Mr. Daily had that in mind when he was sending that letter, Arnold," Dr. Myers explained. "I think his loyalty is to the both of you, but he had you in mind, not the consequences of Scarface."

As the Ventriloquist's eyes returned to his doctor, the psychologist continued in a calm voice. "I don't think you are as alone as you thought you were." He paused to lift the dummy up from his lap. He held Scarface out toward his patient, the puppet's back to him.

Wesker shrunk back against his chair, looking extremely apprehensive. He dropped the letter to the ground as he brought his hands up in front of his chest. He stared at Scarface with worried eyes.

"It's okay, Arnold," Dr. Myers reassured him.

Wesker's eyes never left Scarface, who stared back at him with lifeless glass eyes. He swallowed the lump in his throat and drew a shaky breath.

"Youse just gonna sit there, starin' at me all day?" Scarface suddenly said without moving, making Wesker jump nearly out of his skin.

The Ventriloquist's eyes fell for a moment to the floor, but slowly returned to the puppet. "…i-is that really all you have to say?" he asked in a near-inaudible voice.

Scarface was silent for a moment or two. After a length of time passed, he breathed a soft sigh. "You know me, Wesker," he began, sounding almost apologetic. "I've got a temper."

Wesker blinked, and then a soft chuckle escaped from him. The puppet had way too much pride to be able to apologize to anyone. He lifted a hand to hide the small smile that had crept onto his face. "You certainly do," he replied softly.

He could almost feel Scarface grinning. "So, why didn't youse just get rid of that pansy Englishman from the start?"

"You know me, Mr. Scarface," Wesker replied after a beat accompanied with a soft shrug.

Dr. Myers rose to his feet and placed the dummy in a sitting position on the chair. "I think I'll just give you guys some time to chat," he said. He turned and started walking toward the door.

"D-Doctor Myers?"

The psychologist glanced behind him back at his patient.

Wesker stole a quick look at his beloved dummy before he looked back over at his doctor. "Thank you," he said, a warm smile on his face.

Dr. Myers could feel himself grinning right along with his patient. This was the first time he had ever seen Arnold Wesker with a real smile on his face. "You are more than welcome, Arnold," he responded. He turned to continue leaving. "I'll see the both of you tomorrow for therapy."

As he walked off, he heard Scarface speak again. "Who was singin' that song when I came in?"

"That was Miss Harley," Wesker answered.

"'Wesker and Scarface'," the dummy repeated in a thoughtful tone as the sound of the opening door reached them.

Dr. Myers stepped through the doorway after he heard Scarface say "That's just how it should be."

**_THE END_**

* * *

Wee! It's done. I hope everyone enjoyed this ongoing project of mine. I want to thank everyone for all the wonderful reviews, and thank you for taking the time to read it. Thanks so much!


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